


Kissing You Goodbye (Jean x Reader)

by Shingeki_No_Koiji



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Reader-Insert, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-01-03 06:09:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 46,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1066996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shingeki_No_Koiji/pseuds/Shingeki_No_Koiji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The feeling of loneliness can truly be terrifying. After losing her childhood friend Marco Bott in the massacre in Trost, the Reader must cope with the crippling loss. Plagued with self doubt, grappling with emotions and overcome with fear of being alone, she must come to realize that she isn't truly alone in her suffering. Emotions kept under wraps must always rise to the surface eventually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This World

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic occasionally contains violence, harsh language and sexual themes. Any chapters containing substantial violence or any sexual themes will have warnings in place. There is also an essence of reckless endangerment and loss of cautious self-preservation, however it doesn't go as far as to touch upon suicide or self harm, so I haven't tagged it as such.  
> Thanks for reading, and please let me know of any suggestions/issues/typos.

_This world is incredibly vast._

Standing atop the wall of Trost, you watched the setting sun kiss the horizon with your somber, swollen eyes.

It had been a couple of days since the reclaiming of Trost and the cleansing of the Titan creatures that had invaded through the gaping hole in the wall. You had been a part of the squads assigned to culling the trapped beasts after Eren plugged the breach. For hours you and your comrades had slain the filthy abominations, toiling until gear broke, fingers split and exhausted tears fell.

Now, as you watched the crimson sky darken with impending night, you were like a glacier. Alone, barely moving, barely breathing. Your constricting throat tightened even further as your cruel memories of today replayed once more.

_How has it come to this?_

You witnessed the day's horrors repeating before your eyes. The search for survivors. 

Or in most cases, remains.

Clenching your jaw until the muscles in your cheeks screamed in agony, you fought back the searing tears that threatened to boil over. Your right hand balled up tighter around the small piece of paper clutched protectively between bloodstained digits. Knuckles white, teeth aching, knees trembling violently, you continued to fight the tears.

_Please let this just be a nightmare, God just let this be fucking fake._

 

You had seen them fall.

Comrades, rivals, friends, accomplices, leaders, followers, lovers, siblings, it didn't matter to the Titans. In droves they had swarmed into the city, and by the dozens civilians and soldiers alike had perished in a flurry of monstrous teeth and fingers. They fought bravely and relentlessly, and still so many were lost.  
And you, you had hacked and slashed mercilessly at the creatures, ruining every blade you had and only stopping when you were left stranded with no more gas atop a building. Breathing like a winded deer, sweaty hands shivering with shock and adrenaline, you had witnessed the retaking of Trost and fought til the last trapped Titan was destroyed.

You had picked up the pieces.

Wandering the streets of destruction the following days to locate and identify any of the fallen that you could recognize. Helping the medical squads lift injured soldiers onto stretchers, or assisting the removal teams by uncovering bodies from the debris and wrapping them in oilcloth sheets. With trembling fingers you would gently remove their name patches and insignia's, folding them carefully into your chest pocket. But as time dragged on and the body count climbed, the mounting panic in your chest threatened to tear out of your rib cage. 

 

_Where is he? Why can't I find him? Why hasn't he come back to the military base yet? He fucking promised me he can't be gone this is just an awful sick mistake, he's alive he has to be he can't leave me here._

Your thoughts reeled and tumbled chaotically around your strained and overworked mind. Every dark haired body you came across caused the bile to rise in your throat and your eyes to sting. Every possibility that it could be him would send waves of nausea and terror to wrack your frame. And every time it would be some other poor bastard lying in shreds amongst the shattered skeleton of Trost.

But finally your worst fears were realized, and the gnawing anguish you had been suppressing came crashing to the surface of your being.  
You found poor devastated Jean kneeling amongst dusty rubble and crusted blood, his face a catatonic mask of pain. His pale clammy hands were clutching the only remaining hand of a dark haired freckly boy, his body broken and sickenly twisted against a wall. His eyes that once gleamed with naive wonder and clear dreams were gone. All that was left was one bloodshot orb, lifeless and dark, unseeing in death.

As the sickening reality slammed into you, you had collapsed to your knees.

_Marco._

_Marco please, this world is too great, too huge, too daunting for me to go on alone._

The vast horizon you had focused on for hours began to swim and blur in your hazy vision. The sun had long since set, leaving the land a cold shade of cobalt.  
Shivering atop the wall, the day's horrors revisiting repeatedly, you felt your last shreds of composure dissolve.  
Clutching his last note to your face like a lifeline, you allowed despair to claim you once more and collapsed into darkness.


	2. Discovered

A low mournful cry of some lone animal echoed softly across the plains below the wall, a hollow despairing sound that struck home with you. Slowly raising your head, you gazed at the stretching landscape that sprawled below. Swollen and reddened (e/c) orbs, glassed over with overpowering emotion balefully regarded the moonlit landscape below. You had lost track of the time, unsure how long you had been perched atop the massive structure. With a shakey sigh, you gradually returned your exhausted eyes to the note in your hand. 

_"_____..._

_This is probably going to seem really silly to you, since you never have any trouble telling anyone exactly how you feel or what you're thinking. But I knew if I tried to say these words to you in person I would most likely choke and make a fool of myself as usual!_

_I know you plan to join the military next year. You're so brave _____, so caring and selfless. You have unknowingly helped sway my own decision, and I have chosen to join the corps along side you. I don't feel like I have many talents unlike you, but I know that I can give my body and soul in service of the king and play a role (even a small one) in aiding humanity._

_I just want to say thankyou, _____. Thankyou for always being here with me, and for helping me find my confidence when I struggle alone. For being the greatest friend I could ever ask for, and holding my hand any time I scraped my knees or fell out of the apple tree in the yard._

_Maybe someday, when the terror and hiding behind walls is all just a memory, we could find a cottage together and get a puppy just like you always wanted. You could sell your beautiful paintings, and I could find a relaxing trade job. No titans, no worries... Only if you want to though! I know this sounds so silly!_

_There is so much more I want to write, but I chose a small piece of paper and can't find the words I need... Maybe I'll have the guts to tell you everything that I feel, one day._

_Anyway, happy birthday _____!_

_Love always,_

_Marco._

How many times had you read this note now? You had no idea, gently caressing the crumpled sheet with one trembling thumb. This note was now all you had left of your childhood companion, the one person who had never hurt or betrayed you in any manner. 

The only person who hadn't been torn from your side by vicious beasts.

The overwhelming crush of anguish and hysteria that had berated your being had faded away by now, replaced with a cold empty pit of numbness. What would you do now without him? Where would you go? Would you continue with the corps, or....?

 

A dull thud followed by cautious footsteps dragged you out of your reverie. Turning your head slightly, (h/c) locks falling over your eyes, your eyes sought out who was coming towards you. It was difficult to see the man's face in the moonlight, as he had his back to the illumination as he approached. When he was but a couple of feet away, the man crouched down to look you in the eyes. Squinting and ignoring the pain in your oculars, you finally recognized him.

"...Jean?"

Scooting a bit closer to better see your face, you watched a concerned frown form on his exhausted features. His brows knit together as he rested on the balls of his feet, arms folded across his knees.

"I figured I would find you alone around here after you took off like that. Not the smartest decision you've ever made, _____." He chided you softly, his dark amber eyes filled with sorrow and concern for you. "Why did you run away? You weren't even present at the cremation..."

His gaze burned into yours, patiently awaiting a response. After discovering Marco, the two of you hadn't spoken a word to each other. Numbly, together you had lifted his broken body onto a stretch of oilcloth. Closing his remaining eye softly, you had brushed your lips against Marco's forehead ever so briefly. "Sorry Marco..." You had whispered, "But I can't kiss you goodbye. I can't let go yet." 

Then once you had removed his insignias with great care, you watched as he was wrapped and loaded onto a cart with the rest of the corpses. Something within you had snapped at that point, and you flung yourself into the air to escape out of reach of the agony. Flying away from the screams, the devastation, the mournful calls for deceased comrades. 

But you can't escape your own misery, and all the anguish and despair followed you like a depraved starving hound. It clouded you all the way up to the top of the great wall, and there it remained with you for hours. Until now.

Finally able to respond to Jean, you opened your cracked and parched lips "Jean... I couldn't. I can't let go of Marco just yet. Without him I have nothing." You bit back tears and fought the constriction in your throat. "I couldn't watch them incinerate him like firewood. No. Like _garbage."_ You hissed the last word through your teeth, voice dripping with venom.

You could see Jean's face contort with your last words, tasting the bitterness of the reality himself. "_____... you know that the military don't burn the corpses because they think of our comrades as worthless. We have no choice, it would be mass graves otherwise, and that would be so much worse."

Biting back the rebuttals that swam to the surface, begging to be flung at Jean, you sigh. 

After a few minutes of ear-piercing silence, the sinewy man rose to his feet. After stretching out his back with some audible pops, he extended his hand to you. "Come on, _____. It's late, and if you stay out here you'll get sick. Tomorrow we choose which corps branch we wish to join, so you need to rest." 

Gazing up at the boy before you, his dusty face tear-streaked and pained, you knew he was just like you. Crushed by the loss of the sweet boy you both cherished. Reaching out to grasp his warm calloused hand, you shakily rose to your aching feet, your entire body screaming in protest from being so still for hours.

Brushing yourself down, you realized there was still dried blood encrusted over your hands.  
Marco's blood.

With your gut giving a sickening twist, you gingerly followed Jean down the wall, and the two of you silently began the slow journey back to base under the cold moonglow.


	3. Coward

That night, time seemed at a standstill.   
As you and Jean finally approached the military compound, you gave a small shiver as a biting breeze whisked past. It was impossible to tell what hour it was, as there was still no sign of dawn's approach. Jean must have noticed your reaction to the cold, as he turned and regarded you with genuine concern.  
"_____, go get some rest. Tomorrow is crucial, and after the past few days I know for a fact that you need some respite. Please."

Your eyes caught his in the gloom as you raised your head slightly. Jean certainly wasn't acting in  his usual loud-mouthed self-absorbed manner. You sighed, knowing that it was likely that he was just as crushed as you about Marco. After all, ever since you and Marco had joined the military together, he and Jean had fast become comrades.  
"Mmm." You responded, pulling your jacket tighter around your shoulders. Even such a small movement felt alien after being motionless for most of the evening. With a small hand gesture to bid Jean goodnight, you began walking towards the girl's barracks.

"Um, _____...?" He called out in a cautious voice, stopping you in your tracks. You turned slightly to regard him with one eye, waiting expectantly.  
Jean's eyes were filled with determination alongside his sorrow as he defiantly called out "We'll get through this. We'll find a way!" Your (e/c) eyes remained locked on his solemn amber ones as you processed his outburst. With a small nod of your head, you acknowledged his words and continued walking.

 _Keep telling yourself that, Kirschtein. Maybe if you wish hard enough, it'll come true._ You thought sardonically to yourself as you walked away, still clutching the precious letter to your chest.

 

Creeping into the dorms, you could just barely make out the shapes of the other girls' sleeping forms in the moonlight. Sasha was snoring like a runaway train as usual, and tiny Christa had somehow wriggled over from her bunk into that of Ymir. You glanced around, taking mental note of who had survived, and who's bunks were cold and empty. Smiling sadly to yourself, you silently moved to your bunk, making sure to avoid the creaking floorboard.

Removing your jacket, you scrunched your nose in disgust. It reeked of blood, sweat and cinders with a hint of sulfur. Gagging, you dropped it onto your small washing basket at the foot of your bed. With a sigh of resignation, you removed the rest of your uniform, joints and muscles aching in protest. Wrapping yourself in a towel and armed with your scrubbing loofah, you emerged back into the cool night air.

Staring out over the training grounds towards the far wall, you could see the distant horizon beginning to grow lighter. The sun was beginning to stir, and dawn was fast approaching. How long had you spent on that wall, wallowing in misery? With a frustrated "Tch!", you hurried off to the showers while trying to ignore the pain in your body and heart.

 _And to think, Jean had spent all night looking for me!? You've fallen far, _____. Real pathetic. What would Marco have said if he knew I was acting so depressed?_ You mentally grumbled to yourself as you stomped down a deserted corridor to the girl's bathrooms.

You hadn't expected anyone to be in here at this hour, but you still sighed in relief at the empty washroom. Piling your towel onto the closest sink-top, you switched on one of the showers and waited a minute for the water to heat up. As the water temperature rose, the steam felt increasingly more liberating on your aching body. With a slight shiver, you stepped gingerly into the water and let the hot liquid cascade down your back. 

For a while you just stood there motionless, letting the water pour. The heat and steam felt so liberating in it's contrast to the day's events, so clean and pure and tangible. At some point, hot tears had begun to fall and intermingle with the shower water. Slowly, you began to scrub yourself with your loofah, being careful of your bruises. Your eye eventually caught sight of the dark stains marring your hands. 

"Oh..." You muttered and began to scratch and scrub at your palms, face contorted in distress. Sobs began to wrack your body as you watched Marco's blood drain away from your shaking hands. You suddenly felt vile, filthy as the initial euphoria of the shower melted away. You had seen the body of your only true friend, the only person who had displayed unconditional love and care to a wretch like you after your parents disappeared. You had seen his cold corpse, so frail and broken, and assisted in loading him into a cart for burning.  Before running away in fear and disgust.

_Like a fucking coward._

"Forgive me, Marco..." You whispered as you scraped at your hands repeatedly, desperately trying to remove his gore from between your fingers. But the crimson trickle down the drain refused to cease, so you continued scrubbing vigorously. Frustration tightened your throat and you clenched your jaw in response, catching your lip between your teeth in the process. You bit down as hard as possible, but the mounting panic became overbearing as blood continued to swirl around your feet, staining your skin with the shade of his death.

"Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck FUCK!!" You screamed, throwing the loofah down at the floor and clenching your fists in anger.   
"_____...? _____ is that you in there!?" Sasha's panicked voice rung out through the bathroom.

A cold grip clutched your heart and your breath seemed to catch in your throat.   
_How long had she been standing out there? How could I have not heard the door!?_

Straining to swallow the shock that had blocked your throat, you responded "Ah, Sasha...? Yeah it's me. Um. I'm sorry for yelling." You silently cursed yourself for having such an outburst with someone so close nearby. Showing distressed emotions was something you hated doing in front of anyone except for Marco.

Relief in her voice, Sasha called out "Oh I'm so glad it's you _____! After we all returned to the dorms, I started to worry since I hadn't seen you... Did Jean come find you? He said he wanted to search for you. He was really stressed out about you running off..." She paused, and for an agonizingly long moment the only sound was that of the running water. "Hey _____... I'm really sorry. I heard about Marco, and we all know that you two were incredibly close."

Biting your lip, you swallowed past the lump that had yet again grabbed a hold of your throat. "Yeah, thanks Sasha."  
After a quickly mumbled response that was barely audible, you heard the usually bouncy girl rush out of the room, shutting the main door behind her. Jean's face, contorted with agony and worry swam across your mind. You had never expected him to have that amount of selfless kindness in him. Your heart gave a dull throb at the thought of his amber eyes filled with such misery, but you attempted to push aside the pangs of compassion.  
Sucking on your teeth thoughtfully, you switched off the now cold water stream and stepped out of the shower with shaky feet. You realized your nails had dug into your palms when talking to Sasha, and they were beginning to throb. Upon inspection, you were horrified to realize that with all of your scrubbing, you had shredded away the skin on some areas of your hands, leaving red raw flesh exposed to the elements.

"Shit, well that explains the extra blood then..." You muttered with venom, cursing your own lapse of control. Making a mental note to bleach the ever-loving fuck out of your towel as soon as possible, you wrapped up and trotted out into the cold again.

Back in the girls' barracks, you threw on  an old shirt and some underwear and with a groan climbed into your bunk. As you slipped under the sheets and collapsed into your pillow, the echoing morning horn sounded out over the training grounds. The other female recruits began to stir in their bunks, rubbing sleepy eyes and stretching cramped muscles. 

Heaving out an agonized groan, you viciously whipped your sheets off and sat back upright.

 _Today is gonna be the fucking death of me..._ you told yourself bitterly.


	4. Collision

"Hold still, would you?"

"Ugh but Mikasa, it's fucking sore! It'll be fine, just let me-"

"HOLD STILL _____." The raven-haired girl snapped at you, causing you to cease protesting and instead revert to grumbling between your teeth.   
Mikasa was carefully binding your grazed raw hands tightly with crisp white bandages, making sure not to press too hard with her slender fingers. Regardless of how gentle she was trying to be, it still stung like hell, and as a result you were fidgety this morning. Having to explain to Sasha and Mikasa about why your hands were so ruined and your towel bloodstained had been a mission in itself. 

In more ways than one, you were exhausted. You couldn't remember the last time you had eaten. It could have been breakfast yesterday, or maybe even dinner the night before that. Yet your appetite was nonexistent, and yet your body drained of vital energy. You'd had no sleep for nearly two days now, and your emotional state was comparable to a house of cards in a very drafty room.

Ready to crumble at any point.

So far, it had taken all of your energy to compose your behavior and erect a barrier facade of lies. Since your unforeseen and crushing discovery of your closest friend's corpse, the only person who had seen the cracks in your emotional mask was Kirschtein.  He had seen the crumbling decimation of the freckled boy's passing, and had reacted to your vulnerability with unprecedented compassion. This however was something you didn't expect to last very long, surely he'll return to his snide cocky mannerisms and addiction to poking fun at your serious expressions.

You had vowed silently to show no others your crushed emotions, burying them deep within the confines of your being and wrapping them tightly behind your usual stoic attitude. Jean had simply encountered you when you had your guard lowered. But it would never happen again. When Sasha or Mikasa would lock eyes with you, questioning looks on their faces and concern in their eyes, you would give a small smile. Pretending to have rested a little overnight, acting as though you weren't completely and utterly emotionally compromised, making them believe that the wounds on your hands were a result of the previous day's endeavors in the field rather than inadvertent masochism. 

You observed Mikasa as she finished tying off the bandages and rose to her feet, satisfied with her handiwork. You flexed your fingers gingerly, testing your range of movement and pain. With a lopsided smile of thanks to her, you too got to your feet and stretched. All around you, the rest of the female cadets were dressing, securing harnesses and gear straps over fresh snowy-white trousers and clean pressed shirts. It was the morning of graduation, and that night you would all be required to choose which branch of the military to devote the remainder of your lives to.

You swiftly got dressed into your uniform and harnesses, being as careful as possibly to not hurt your hands further. The dull throb of raw exposed flesh was irritating enough without sharp pangs of cuts reopening.

Heading towards the barracks door, you slowed slightly, recalling how Marco always used to wait for you at the corner of the building. Every morning before training, you would step out into the crisp morning air and see him grinning at you. His smile was always as bright and warm as a summer sunrise, infallibly making your skin tingle and the corners of your mouth twitch up every time.   
In your chest, your heart gave out an indignant throb that permeated through your torso, a bitter reminder that Marco would never be waiting for you again. 

Stepping out of the barracks, in your peripheral vision you saw a figure leaning against the wall that Marco had always stood waiting. Your breath hitched in your throat, and right foot paused hovering, all thought of finishing taking a step forgotten. You could feel your heart drumming out a frantic pattern against your ribs, like a terrified bird entrapped in a cage of bone.   
Sluggishly turning your head, your wide eyes fell upon the tall dark haired boy leaning against the wall.

Bertholdt began to physically tremble as his petrified eyes locked on yours, unable to break away. A rivulet of sweat raced from his forehead to his jawline, but he didn't move to wipe it away. He was like a deer in the gaze of a predator.

Your stomach heaved and dropped. As if time had screeched to a halt, you couldn't move a muscle. It had seemed so likely, this expectation of turning to see Marco waiting. It would have been so normal, so _natural_ for him to be there like always. Your lip began to shake, mouth still hanging open from a silent greeting that was never birthed.

Still encapsulated with shock and slight fear from your reaction to seeing him there, Bertholdt swallowed the lump in his throat and attempted to stammer out to you "Oh... Umm.... Hi t-there ______, I uh...."

"Checking me out were you, ______!? I was starting to wonder when you would come to confess to me!" Reiner's boisterous voice boomed out from behind Bertholdt, snapping you violently out of your staggered condition. As the herculean blonde stepped out from behind the taller figure of Bertholdt, your expression took a dark turn. The mortifying pain and disappointment felt until now was replaced with cold fury and indignation. You had nearly broken composure again, and Reiner's crude remark was fuel to your anger.

"Fuck off Braun, I'm not in the mood for your shit today." You snarled at him, rearranging your expression to your usual comfortable state of frigid indifference. Reiner scoffed at this, and folded his arms across his beefy chest while flashing you a charming smile.

"Come on now, ______ don't be that way! A little bit of fun would do you good, maybe you'll stop being so damn wound up tight all the time," he grinned as he said this, and ended it with a sly wink. Bertholdt at this point seemed to regain his senses, and grabbed onto Reiner's sleeve in a piss-poor attempt to stop his friend's indecent advances. But it was futile.

Your hands balled into fists, eyes flashing dangerously. "Fuck. Off. Braun." You hissed through your teeth, a hairs breadth away from losing all control.

"Haha! I like them feisty! What say we sneak out to the tool shed before training, we could practice our f-" Reiner was cut off violently by your fist connecting with his jaw. 

Your knuckles gave out a sickening cracking sound from the impact, and Reiner's teeth punctured his tongue from the force. He staggered backwards, dazed. Bertholdt grabbed his arms to steady Reiner, and stared at you in awe. 

Dumbfounded, a small crimson stream trickling from the corner of his mouth, Reiner looked at you with a mixture of shock and remorse. "_____, wha-a..."

Before he could articulate the rest of his sentence, you interrupted Reiner by storming past him and Berholdt, heading in a beeline for the edge of the training grounds where the facility edges met the heavy luscious forest. It's deep shadows and secluded areas were extremely alluring to you right now.

 

You were heading to yours and Marco's favorite area to be alone.

 

 

 

Shuffling out of the boy's barracks, stretching and yawning as he went, Jean heard a commotion near the girl's building. Curious, he sauntered over to where the clamor was happening to see who was arguing this early in the goddamned morning.  
As he approached, Jean could see the tall form of Bertholdt and sturdy Reiner by his side. Judging from body language alone, Bertholdt looked ready to bolt from whoever they were facing, but Reiner seemed calm and confident. 

"Fuck off, Braun. I'm not in the mood for your shit today." ______'s voice was clear and defiant, ringing out stoically in the crisp morning air. Jean paused roughly ten feet away from the other boys, the building of the barracks hiding him from the fiery girl's gaze. For someone who was usually so composed, coolly handling any situation like a mountain regards a storm, this outburst was extremely out of character. Jean's heart flip-flopped at the memory of her condition yesterday. His own grief and anger had been mirrored perfectly upon her beautiful features, twisting and contorting her angelic face into a visage of pain, a very goddess of misery.

Gritting his teeth past the dull ache in his chest, Jean continued to observe, curious as to why ______ was so livid with the two other cadets. 

But when Reiner made the comment about "a little bit of fun would do her good", Jean's mouth lifted into a snarl. What was Reiner's fucking _problem_ this morning? If this was his idea of being funny, he was way off fucking mark. Flexing his fingers furiously, Jean began walking towards Reiner and Bertholdt's backs, ready to get involved and drive them off. 

How fucking _dare_ Reiner propose sneaking into the tool shed to _____, the morning after she saw the body of her loved one?! Jean's heart throbbed in protest again, grief with a trace of jealousy. Oh how she had loved Marco, the way those two had looked at each other. Surely they had been more than friends... Marco had always spoken of her with such pride and fondness, and occasionally shared secret pent up wishes on dark silent nights in the barracks. Jean was muttering to himself bitterly as he stomped forwards, but he stopped dead in his tracks as Reiner suddenly staggered backwards as if from some forceful impact. 

Stunned, Jean watched numbly as Bertholdt caught his friend from stumbling over. They both stood motionless, apparently still staring at ______. Had she fucking PUNCHED Reiner? Reiner Braun, the boy built like a brick shithouse?! Jean was incredulous, impressed and mortified all at once. "Oh that stupid bratty girl." He muttered under his breath.

But then he saw her form break away from the barracks. She was striding hurriedly, nearly breaking into a run towards the edge of the compound. Out in the direction of the trees at the edge of the running grounds.

Tangled in indecision like a fly in a web, Jean wrestled with his internal struggles. Right now she probably wanted to be alone more than anything, and would most likely verbally rip him a new asshole if he disturbed her. But after that performance was it really _wise_ to leave _____ to her own devices?

With a groan, Jean sauntered past the still shaken forms of Reiner and Bertholdt, and followed _____'s retreating figure to the looming forest.


	5. Reminisce

_Why am I even bothering with this right now, anyway?_ Jean thought to himself with a long, drawn-out sigh.

He trudged along at a leisurely pace through the training grounds, kicking absently at pebbles and scuffing his boots against the dusty ground beneath him. A mild, gentle breeze ruffled his copper-blonde hair, heralding a fairly warm day. The sun was now fully above the horizon, bathing the military compound in a welcoming glow.

But there wouldn't be much of a welcome where Jean was headed, surely.

"After that performance with Reiner, she'll probably tear my head off for bugging her at a time like this..." Jean muttered under his breath, his mood darkening further. "Waiting a few hours would be the smart thing to do..." Comforting and consoling people wasn't quite something he could do with care and precision, as his brash attitude and brutal honesty usually caused tension in situations like this. 

But yet he continued to meander after that girl, thoughts mulling over what to say to her. After all, in the 3 years that Jean had known her, she never once appeared truly offended by anything his loud mouth had said. All of the arguments, furious outbursts, cursing, fighting with Eren or teasing _____ and Marco over petty little things... All of it, she had taken in her stride with grace, never complaining. Every time, she was as impassive and stoic as a mountain, nothing ever truly rattling her or causing her to break composure. And besides, who else did she have now to talk to?

Jean halted in his tracks, realising with a jolt that he had never once seen her panic or distraught until yesterday.   
Throughout all of the brutal training, the blood sweat and tears, seeing other trainees die or drop out, she stayed strong and composed throughout it all. Not in a remorseless or cold way, for Jean knew she had paid respects and mourned those who passed and had expressed sorrow for others leaving. But no matter how many times she got beaten in hand to hand training, or how many cuts and bruises she sustained from maneuver gear exercises, she would get back up. Every time she would dust herself off, collect her composure and break out grinning. 

Grinning at Marco, and even occasionally at himself.

 Simply, _____ never broke down. She had always been unshakable.  
Jean continued walking, shaking his head in mild disbelief and quiet respect.

Musing to himself, Jean wondered when it was he had started seeing her in a different light. As more than a friend, more than a comrade. When thoughts of her had overtaken any he had harbored for the other female trainees, even overtaking those he had of Mikasa.

As he walked slowly, he thought back to the early days of trainee life.

 

On the day of initiation, the sun had been sharp and unyielding. Much harsher than it was on this balmy day, definitely. Gusts of wind had barreled through the columns of nervous trainees, driving itching dust at noses and stinging their eyes. Jean recalled some fragments getting in his eye, and how he had desperately tried to blink it away without breaking ranks. 

To break rank would be to subject oneself to the wrath of Keith Shadis, the ferocious thundering commander and trainer of the new recruits in the military. He had stalked between the rows of trembling teenagers and fresh faces, picking out those who showed weakness. He would call them out, break them down, rebuild them from raw clay as soldiers. Jean had been unfortunate enough to be singled out by Shadis, and had earned himself a cranium-splitting headbutt.  
Collapsing to the ground in agony, Jean had clutched at his forehead in pain and anger. Shadis stalked away from his prone form, leaving him to pick himself up and dust off. As he did so, he beadily observed Shadis isolating his next victim. 

A freckle faced boy with raven black hair and a bright boisterous smile, who introduced himself as Marco Bott from Jinae city. He was visibly sweating beneath the deathly glare of Shadis, but still managed to enthusiastically claim his desire to join the Military Police. Jean grinned, as it seemed he would have someone to compete with.  
Then his eyes trailed to the girl standing next to Marco Bott.

Her gossamer hair drifted lazily in the breeze, framing her delicate features and touching upon her soft lips like floating spider webs. But there wasn't much delicate about her eyes. So vibrant in their colour, yet holding a sharp determined edge that Jean found himself curious about. She was fairly tall, as the top of her head measured against Marco's shoulders, and she was willowy with a taut strength to her build.   
Jean watched Shadis turn towards her, and listened carefully to catch her name.

But it never came.  
The girl stood unflinching as Shadis peered at her, his face inches from her own. She gazed back at him, unwavering and stoic. With a satisfied look in his eye, the instructor straightened up and continued his unrelenting barrage against the other trainees. 

Jean watched her turn to Marco, and they both smirked at each other playfully.  
 _Ah, so they must be an item._ He thought to himself absently, and resumed carefully observing the other members of the 104th Trainee Squad.

From the first day, for a long time Jean had been infatuated with the enigmatic beauty Mikasa. He was captivated by her beauty and her finesse in training, and he admired her endlessly. But it seemed that Eren Jaeger, his rival from the first night onwards, was always in his way. Mikasa was utterly devoted to Eren, and it delivered a low kicking blow to Jean's ego to feel jealousy towards Jaeger. As time passed, the initial lust for Mikasa faded away without Jean minding so much, and he found himself continuously intrigued by the calm girl who stuck by Marco. So he invested his time and energy into the immediate friendship that bloomed between himself and Marco, the boy who occupied the bunk next to Jean in the dorms. 

It was as if Marco and _____ were a package deal. On the first night in the encampment, Marco had sat next to Jean with a beaming smile at dinner time. The boys introduced themselves, laughing nervously, and then Marco had introduced her. The stoic girl from the initiation who had stood impassively beside him throughout the nerve-wracking induction.

She seemed so much more lighthearted away from the training grounds, smiling through the introduction and shaking Jean's hand gently. Funny. She was so much prettier and welcoming when she smiled, not so resemblant of the ice-cold soldier he had seen earlier.  
Jean had felt a small skip in his heartrate, but chose to ignore it.

The trio had then dug into their respective dinners with gusto, and had done so every meal time since for three years. They were nearly inseperable, Jean seeking Marco out at every break and meal time. Every time, she would doubtlessly be there, standing loyally with Marco. A smirk would dance across her features, with the occasional cheeky comment flung in Jean's direction. The three of them would laugh heartily, and share their hopes, dreams and plans for the future over mealtimes.

Well, except for her. She never revealed much about anything really. Any time Jean asked _____ about her past, childhood or her aspirations for graduation, both her and Marco would avoid answering. Instead, they would both deflect the questions with different conversations or roundabout responses. It was frustrating, but Jean learned to let it drop. She was as stubborn as Hell, so Jean had figured he would just wait until she changed her mind eventually. 

Jean had even tried asking Marco alone, in the dead of night in the boy's dorms. Marco had sleepily rolled over to face Jean, his face dusted with a faint blush. 

"Thats not really something for me to tell you Jean, it IS _____'s life after all. I'm sure she'll tell you eventually. She's just..." He paused, chewing on his lip thoughtfully. "She's just been through Hell, you know. Its hard for her to talk about, so I think she chooses to push her past to the back of her mind and focus solely on the present and future."

 

And that had been it. Jean had known better than to press Marco further, as the taller freckled boy held an unshakable loyalty and would never betray the confidence of any friend. Especially not _____.

Rubbing the back of his head, Jean paused at the top of a small rising hill at the boundary of the training field. Down the slope was a shallow ravine, across which the small local forest began. Peering through the canopy from his elevated vantage point, Jean's eyes raked the small clearings for a certain place. 

Marco had told him all about it one night, when he and Jean had been wandering around the grounds. Jean had asked Marco where _____ and he often went in the evenings or when they finished their chores early. The freckled boy had chuckled cheerfully, blushing ever so slightly. He had told Jean of a special little area in the forest. In a small meadow surrounded by the trees was a crystal clear lake. _____ was infatuated with it, as it reminded her of somewhere endearing in her childhood. So she and Marco went there often to relax and reminisce.

Jean breathed a sigh of relief, spotting a flash of sunlight reflected on water between the trees. Silently thanking Marco for informing him of _____'s little hideaway, Jean collected his thoughts. 

"Well, better get this shit over with. Now or never." Jean muttered gruffly to himself.

Adjusting his jacket and steeling his resolve in case of conflict, he began his trek down the hill and into the shady embrace of the forest.


	6. Emotions

Groaning with overwhelming fatigue and creaking joints, you stretched luxuriously at the edge of the gleaming lake. The canopy overhead was filled with songbirds, flitting and darting through the sunbeams that filtered through the leaves. Butterflies danced gently upon the breeze, and the air was filled with the scent of pine and moss. You reached your hands as high as possible, bandaged fingers grasping at the light that warmed your palms. The throbbing ache in your damaged digits intensified as the wounds stretched, but you hardly paid any mind.

Inhaling deeply, you closed your weary eyes and let the breeze whisk your hair across your shoulders. You allowed your arms to drop back down by your sides, and willed your mind to cease racing with trauma.

Yes, this was the place. The one part of the world where you could feel truly relaxed, as if the world and it's consequences did not exist outside of this small haven. The peaceful atmosphere here was almost tangible, and you could almost believe that if you inhaled deeply enough, the peace would permeate your very body. You slowly filled your lungs to capacity, ponderously breathing deeply in an attempt to calm your nerves further.

Gradually you opened your eyes, swollen bruised lids a cruel signature of your recent lack of sleep. You gazed silently upwards into the gently swaying leaves, branches flowing in the lazy wind. 

You began wandering along to lake bank towards your favorite tree, an ancient gnarled willow that stood alone proudly against the lake. It's graceful branches coiled and bowed down to the water, some of them long enough to be partially submerged. The willow was incredible, with a thick curtain-like canopy that shielded it's trunk and roots almost entirely from view. The way the snaking vines twisted and swayed leisurely was inviting, so you gently pushed aside the draping leaves and entered the cool natural dome formed by the willow.

Beneath the willow, the ground was mostly blanketed in a thick springy moss instead of grass, and the air was refreshingly cool and inviting. Your steps over the soft ground barely made a sound, muffled by the deep green moss and sparse grass. A large cicada clutched the trunk of the tree, shrilly screeching out it's morning chime.

Groaning slightly from the continuous pain and cramping in your muscles, you swung your military jacket from your shoulders. Dusting it off slightly, you lay it against the gnarled roots before turning to the shaded water.

_How strange it is to come here without him for the first time, and yet not feel alone at all... Its like his presence has stayed here. It's as if I could just turn around and Marco would be sitting against the trunk like always, laughing and sharing stories..._

 

All alone, yet not lonely anymore... Shaking your head lightly at the strange sensation, you stooped down to the pristine water. Balancing yourself deftly on the balls of your feet, you submerged your tightly wrapped hands. The icy liquid was incredibly soothing against your raw flesh, and you let out a groaning sigh of relief. You then began splashing the crystalline droplets against your face, reviving your skin and rubbing your eyes. 

Then, there was a nagging at the back of your mind. A strange tugging feeling, as if you really _weren't_ alone. The hair on your neck stood on end, but you couldn't turn around. You were frozen, muscles locked against any movement, hands still clutching your face. 

_It couldn't possibly be... could it? No, fuck no, that's fucking impossible, what the Hell!? But then again... Nobody else knows this place! **So who the fuck else would it be!?**_

Your mind was racing, thoughts frantically clawing at your consciousness. You could feel your hands trembling against your face. Was it fatigue causing you sporadic paranoia? Had your sanity finally frayed entirely? Surely it was just the lack of sleep-

A twig snapped somewhere behind you, the sound piercing the profound silence that had surrounded you. Branches rustling, quiet breathing, fabric stretching.

Slowly, you turned your head to gaze over your shoulder with wide eyes. You were unsure of what you expected, or _who_ for that matter.

A tall figure, silhouetted against the bright sunlight outside of the canopy, framed in the luscious willow leaves. They leaned down to enter your sanctuary, draping branches falling shut behind them like a screen.

Your expression swiftly transitioned from a mixture of stunned surprise and mortification to one of distaste. It wasn't that you disliked Jean in any way of course, the two of you had gotten along like a house on fire for the past three years. But you just couldn't prevent the stormy look from forming on your face as bitter disappointment manifested itself.

The copper haired boy paused at the edge of the canopy, not inclined to move any closer while you looked so dangerous. Instead, he hoisted one hand onto his hip and casually regarded you with a smirk on his features.

"Can I help you, shithead?" You snapped at him, turning your face back towards the water to bathe your skin some more. But no response came, and you were met with deadpan silence. Growling low in your throat, you flew to your feet and spun around to face him, fists clenching.

Jean's smirk hadn't left his face, but for some reason the snarky expression didn't touch his eyes. Those amber orbs, usually filled with confidence and boisterous humor were now dark and troubled. You felt your initial anger fade slightly, and relaxed your posture with a sigh. 

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you inquired "What is it, Kirschtien? Couldn't it have waited 'til later?" 

Still no answer came from him, instead he dropped his hand from his hip and wandered over to the tree. Your eyes followed him curiously, still awaiting answers to all the questions you had for him.

He turned to you, his features uncharacteristically serious. "Come sit for a second, would ya? I'm way too tired to stand around like this."

You quietly obliged, walking over to where your jacket lay against the old willow, slightly damp from the moss beneath it. Settling down between two large gnarled roots, you folded your legs beneath you. Once you got comfortable, you rested your face in your right hand and waited for him as he sat facing you. Jean slumped down unceremoniously, crossing his legs too and gripping his knees with his hands.

He looked up, and his eyes bored into yours. You stared back with a bored expression, losing patience to wait for the responses he owed you. You began tapping your index finger against your cheek, clearing your throat loudly.

"We need to have a talk, _____." Jean stated gruffly, fingers gripping the fabric of his pants tighter. You noticed his worried eyes flicker down to your hands before returning to hold your gaze. 

"Hmph, you sound like a girl trying to break up with me Kirschtein. Last time I checked, you were neither female _nor_ my partner, so what could we possibly have to discuss right now that was so freaking urgent?"

Jean's lip twitched upwards indignantly, and you could clearly tell that he was biting back his brash attitude. Slowly, purposefully, he raised one slender finger and pointed at your hands. Confused, you straightened up and regarded your hands curiously. 

_Ah of course, the bandages._

"Your hands weren't that fucked up last night. Sure they were bloodied, but nothing looked fresh or serious. But now you're all wrapped up in linen bandages and I can see that there are some fresh bloodstains. Jesus, _____, _what the actual fuck did you do to yourself?"_

He glowered at you, golden eyes demanding a response. Internally, you struggled. You and Jean were close, sure, but you never really shared personal turmoil with him. Marco was always the only one who you ran to, who you confided in. He had been your comfort, your anchor in a cruel sadistic world. So the thought of fully opening up to someone other than him was daunting.

While you pondered your response, head bowed slightly, you didn't notice Jean shuffling closer until he clasped your hands gently. Startled, your head shot up and you stared at him. His knees were almost touching yours, his steady breaths blowing softly across you.  His eyes were trained on your bandages, thumbs gently spreading your fingers apart. As he studied your wrappings, you could feel your heart jump into your throat at the contact.

A light blush dusted your cheeks, and you felt slightly dizzy. You couldn't recall any other time when he had touched you in this gentle manner. A casual arm slung over your shoulder, or being thrown in combat training, or even him offering a hand to help you up... None of it compared to the amiable way he held your injured hands now. Almost like he was handling fragile glass, as if you may shatter if he wasn't careful enough.

Gingerly, he set your left hand down on his knee -causing your heart to leap again- and began delicately unwrapping your right hand. You sat there silently, offering no resistance as the young man before you uncoiled your bandages, gradually revealing the severity beneath.

Jean's breath caught in his throat, and he hissed quietly as the bandages dropped to the mossy forest-floor. Guiltily you lowered your gaze to regard the mess he had revealed. The flesh of your palm was raw and exposed, dried blood caked in some areas. Other more viciously damaged parts still oozed blood slightly, mostly between finger joints. 

You could feel the blood rising in your face again, and turned your face away in an attempt to hide the shame you felt. _Fucking wonderful, now I have to explain this shit._

You felt a hand grasp your chin as Jean forced you to face him again. As he let go, his stern gaze bored into you relentlessly, silently imploring you to explain yourself. Groaning, you pinched the bridge of your nose with your left hand and shut your eyes.

"So I had, uh. A bit of an episode last night. In the showers. Happy?" When no answer came, you opened one eye to gauge his expression.

You were met with a strange mixture of relief and cold calculation. Jean was focused back on your hand, chewing his lip slightly. "No." He muttered quietly. "No, I'm not happy."

 _Goddamn it he's making me feel like some kind of naughty child._ You thought bitterly.

Tenderly, Jean began re-bandaging your hand. You both sat in silence as he worked, the only sounds being those of the birds and cicadas overhead. Once he was finished, he dropped your hand out of his grasp and folded his arms sullenly. You regarded him beadily, wondering if he would say anything more.

When he didn't, you broke the tense silence. "So, you still haven't answered my questions you know."

Jean shifted his gaze back up to your eyes, unmoving and still saying nothing.

You decided to repeat your questions again, slowly losing patience again "Jean, why did you come here? _And how the actual fuck did you know about this place?_ Even if you did follow me, it's hard to locate without really knowing where to look."

Still no response from him, but his eyes softened and his lips drew into a tight line.

"It was Marco who told you, wasn't it Jean?"

Letting out a startlingly loud groan, Jean fell back against the moss, covering his face with one arm thrown across his eyes.

"Yeah yeah, it was Marco alright? And I followed you because... fuck. I followed you because I was fucking _worried_ about you, alright? Marco never told me much about your past, or how you two met... But he mentioned once that you had nearly let yourself die in the past, and I couldn't help myself worrying. Jesus, _____. You of all people should know by now that you and I are more or less in the same boat now. _We both lost our closest friend._ Now I have no idea whether you and Marco were more than friends or not, but that's your business and not mine. The point is-" 

He paused in his tirade, as if struggling to release the words he had pent up. You stared at him dumbfounded, jaw hanging open slightly.

"Fuck, _____, the point is I do actually care you know. We've been a trio for _three fucking years_ now. Sure, it was Marco who meshed us two together, and sure I probably seem like a selfish prick half the time... Okay more than seem, I acted it alot in the first year. But knowing the two of you _changed_ me, ______. You both got under my skin and slowly affected my outlook and attitude. But what I'm trying to tell you is that I really am here, alright? I **know** Marco was your closest friend, and the only one you confided in, but" Jean paused, gulping back against a lump in his throat before continuing quietly.

"He's gone now. I know its rough, it's fucking _awful_ , but it's true. And like it or not, I'm all you've got now girl. I'm no freckled saint like him" Jean sat back up, a fiery determined look in his eye,   
"But goddamnit, I'm going to try and help you through this to the best of my abilities. And..." A faint rosy tinge glazed his cheeks, and his eye contact with you began to waver. "I expect you to try help me too, ______. We need each other now. It's gonna be shitty, and it's gonna be painful. But **goddamnit** we're soldiers, and we're friends. Got it?"

You continued to stare at Jean, shocked into silence by his incredible outburst. Never had you heard him talk of his feelings like this, and the only time he had been an inspirational speaker was when you had all faced death in the titan invasion of Trost...

Shutting your mouth, you straightened up and cleared your throat. You were lost for words, and you could see Jean becoming flustered from your lack of response. He was no longer looking at you. In fact, he was looking anywhere _but_ you.

Slowly, you felt a small smile crack across your face as the wind picked up slightly. You could almost feel the affirmation from some other unseen being, a familiar presence urging you to move forwards. A gentle smile coasted across your memory, lifting the anger and frustration you had felt for Jean and leaving peace in it's wake.

"Jean?" You murmured, smiling as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. His eyes met yours, widening at your reaction.

 

"Jean, lets do our best. We'll make him proud, okay?" You whispered, still grinning through the tears that now flowed freely down your ashen cheeks.

Leaping to his feet, Jean grabbed your hand and pulled you up. He stared down at you, face still reddened from his outburst. Grasping your face gently between his calloused hands, he wiped away your tears with trembling thumbs.

"Yeah, we gotta keep going. He will be proud of us, ______. Just don't ever change, or else you'll have me to answer to. I need the stoic unwavering mountain of a girl that I used to know."

With a small chuckle, you bent down to gather your jacket from the tree roots. Your stomach let out a gurgling rumble, and you doubled over in surprise. 

_Shit that's right, I haven't eaten in fucking aaaaaages..._

Jean laughed out boisterously, sneering slightly as he said "Better get your ass to breakfast before Sasha and Connie eat everything, _____! Or are you planning on getting scrawny now that we're graduating?"

 

Still giggling, the two of you left the protective dome of the willow tree in higher spirits than when you had entered. It was as if the sadness that had burdened you had been gently bandaged by unseen hands, and as if a freckled smile had been reassuring you that things would always get better.

No matter how long it takes, things will get better.


	7. Decisions

As your eyes adjusted to the change in lighting entering the mess hall, your ears were greeted with the familiar murmur of noise generated by hungry trainees. Wearily, you followed Jean over to the cafeteria area to load up your tray, but despite your hunger you no longer felt like eating. 

In stark contrast to the peace and relief you had felt in the shade of the willow tree, the weight of reality had returned to burden your shoulders and press upon your heart. Running your disinterested gaze over the food options, you resigned yourself to a bowl of gruel-like oats and a steaming mug of coffee.

 _At least this will be gentle on my stomach somewhat._

Trudging towards your usual table near the windows, you could feel the oppressive stares of other trainees following your exhausted form. They were probably watching to see if you would snap again, fall to pieces or simply lose yourself all-together. After all, you had never been one for abrupt outbursts, and word had most definitely traveled about your scuffle earlier this morning.

Willing yourself to ignore them as best as possible, you slid onto the bench on Jean's right and began stirring your oatmeal slowly. You could feel his eyes fixated on you as he ate his own breakfast. Sighing, you lifted your weary eyes to catch his in a sideways gaze.

"I'm not going to shatter in front of the entire 104th trainee squad, Kirschtein. You can relax a little you know."

Slightly taken-aback from being caught staring, Jean turned away to look down at his grey unappetizing oats. Face slightly tinged with pink, he responded gruffly "I'm not watching you for that or anything, idiot. I just wanted to make sure you eat something so I don't have to listen to you whine when we gotta go do chores."

Letting out a small derisive snort, you began shoveling the tasteless slop into your mouth. As you ate, you couldn't help but feel significantly more cold on your right side. Marco's usual space on the bench was so bleak and empty, yet you still couldn't quite shake the feeling that he might slump down next to you at any minute. He would have a big grin across his freckled face, eyes warm and bright as he greeted the two of you.

"Hey ______," You were snapped violently out of your poisonous reverie by Jean standing up, "I'm going to check the chores roster for today. Just stay here." 

Watching as he carried his tray towards the sinks in the corner, you couldn't help but grumble "I'm not done eating anyway dickhead, there's no point in me leaving yet."

Still mumbling to yourself about Jean's uncharacteristic fussing between gulps of bitter coffee, your eyes inadvertently locked with Reiner's. His golden orbs widened slightly, and his lips drew into a tight line. Bertholdt beside him began visibly fidgeting, and appeared to be urging Reiner to do something. Narrowing your eyes, you observed him carefully as the herculean boy pushed himself up from his table and began trudging towards you. Like a spooked alley cat, you could feel your shoulders tensing and raising defensively.

Lifting your spoon to your parted lips again, your gaze remained sharply locked on Reiner's as he approached and stood across the table from you. Shifting his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot, Reiner looked to his left. 

"Hey, so uh ______. Look, I uh.... About this morning and all. Eh where do I start..." He trailed off, uncertainty creating a waver in his voice. Softening your eyes and relaxing your previously hostile posture, you patiently waited for the staunch boy to finish.

By now there were more than a few nosy trainees peering at the scene unfolding, possibly wondering if you were going to sock Reiner in the face again today. However, you paid them no mind and instead kept your focus on Reiner.

Clearing his throat, he met your eyes awkwardly. "Listen, _____. What I said was out of line, and I'm sorry. Initially I wanted to offer you a shoulder rub, but uhh... "He began chuckling uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his head, "I guess I shoulda really thought that one out a bit better."

A slight smile gracing your features, you set your spoon down in the bowl and lifted your hand to him. "Sorry for slugging you. Truce?"

Grinning, Reiner eagerly gripped your hand in a crushing handshake. "Hell yeah girl, thanks for forgiving me! By the way, great right hook you've got on you. Took me completely by surprise!"

Smiling in response to his praise, you returned your attention to your now cold oatmeal as Reiner departed with Bertholdt, who had cleared their trays away. The rest of the trainees in the room had become disinterested after you and Reiner had made peace, and were slowly clearing out of the room. Sasha and Connie were still at their table, wolfing down their breakfast with inhuman gusto. At the next table over, Mikasa appeared to be attempting to console a worried Armin. 

_Ah of course, Eren still hasn't returned after the court case. I guess those who join the Survey Corps will be seeing him soon enough-_ Your train of thought paused there, as a lump rose agonizingly slowly in your throat.

_Shit, that's right. What branch am I going to join now?_

Your original intention had been to join the Military Police with Marco, and do your utmost to uphold his dream and support him in his service to the King. It had been his dream to serve the monarch after all, and you had felt that supporting Marco's dream was the best way to repay him for giving you reason to live.

But that dream had been slashed when you were ranked 11th in the trainees squad. Only the top ten could join the Military Police, after all. The revelation of the rankings had dealt a crushing blow to your confidence, and swiped the ambition from under your very feet. 

Even so, now that Marco had been taken away, you were technically ranked 10th as of the Trost scenario. Just enough to enter the Military Police if you so choose, an opportunity to continue Marco's dream in his stead, to live the life he had desired in his place.

_I would be honoring his wishes, his dream. Nobody could look down on me for it, it would be the logical option, right? The impressive safety of Wall Sina, direct service in honor of the King himself, plus there's the authority... If I rose high enough in the ranks, maybe I could even cleanse some of the rotten twisted systems in place. Make the Military Police more virtuous, less self-serving._

Clenching your fists slightly, trying not to aggravate your hand injuries too much, you shut your eyes tight and willed yourself not to start cracking right there.

_But in the end, what really is the point without him? He was the reason I aimed for the Military Police in the first place. If not for his influence, I probably would have joined the Garrison like Mother and Father..._

A firm hand gripped your shoulder, jerking your attention outwards once more.

So trapped in your own mind, you hadn't even noticed Jean's return until he had touched you. With his hand still gripping your shoulder, he lowered his face to yours, his warm breath blowing across your neck.

"______, seriously you act like you're holding up when I'm there, but then I leave and you let it out? What did I tell you this morning about supporti-" You cut him off by raising your hand and waving it in front of him.

"Sorry, sorry. I know, I know already. You told me we'll support each other. I know that. I didn't exactly plan to lose composure alright? Something just occurred to me, that's all."

Lowering your hands as his left your shoulder, you pushed yourself up from the table and grasped your tray tightly with your bandaged, throbbing digits.   
"What did you find out for chores, then?"

Sighing, Jean folded his arms. "I drew the shitty straw- **literally** \- and got stable duty. Connie's rostered with me, poor bastard. We'll probably be stuck in there all damn day. You got it easy, girl. You and Sasha are on kitchen prep. Man, what I'd give to be able to spend the day on my ass, peeling potatoes. Today is waaay too hot to be shoveling shit."

You flashed him a small sympathetic smile as you carried your tray to the sink. Rinsing off your bowl, you asked him "What about afternoon? Do we have training today?"

Joining you at the sink, Jean shook his head. "Naw, they've left us the afternoon free. I assume it's so we have some time to get cleaned up and decide on our branches before dinner and the ceremony." 

You quietly grunted in response as you moved your attention to cleaning your coffee mug.

"Hey, _____... Lemme ask you something."

You hummed your approval for him to ask, and he regarded you solemnly.

"You know, after tonight we probably won't have many opportunities to talk or hang out anymore, no matter what branches we join. So maybe tonight, we should have a talk? I know you never wanna tell me jack-shit about you, but you can't just leave me hanging forever ya know. The more we know about each other, the more we can help." A faint hue of flush decorated his cheeks, and his gaze wavered.

Nodding slightly, you dried your hands and turned to see Sasha rising from her table, finally finished eating.    
"Tonight, then," You murmured to him, still watching Sasha approach. "We can have a talk tonight, after the ceremony."

Glancing back at Jean, you spoke at a louder, more even tone "Better get to it then, Kirschtein. And make sure you bathe real well before dinner. If you smell like horse shit, you'll have to deal with a Hell of a lot more horse remarks than usual."

"Eat a dick, _____," Jean responded with a playful sneer before grabbing Connie and hauling him off by the collar towards the stables. You could hear Connie's indignant cries of protest fading away as you and Sasha made your way out the front doors.

"I heard Jean say we've got kitchen duty today, _____! Ah we couldn't have been any luckier with the rosters this morning!" Sasha cried out with delight, stretching sinuously as you both wandered in the direction of the main kitchens. You flashed her a quick grin of agreement, and walked the rest of the distance in a comfortable silence while you listened to Sasha eagerly describing her favorite breakfast foods.

Arriving at the kitchens, the head chef shot you both a cursory glance before stiffly pointing at a small mountain of potato sacks. Chewing on a toothpick, he wiped his flour-covered hands on his apron and handed you and Sasha each a small sharp knife.

"Got the ol' graduation cer'mony tonight, ladies. Gon' need a helluva lotta potatoes ta feed the lot o' yas." He stated gruffly, choosing to speak around the toothpick instead of removing it from his mouth. Eyeing your bandaged hands, he tossed you a pair of thin rubber gloves. As he turned his attention back to the dough he was kneading, the two of you slumped down onto a pair of crude stools and began peeling the grubby vegetables.

The morning passed at a leisurely pace, Sasha occasionally engaging you in light conversation about food from her village, or hunting in the forests around her home. You would smile and nod, listening as attentively as possible in your sleep-deprived state. In the patches of comfortable silence, your thoughts would drift.

_What should I tell Jean tonight anyway? Which military branch would suit me best? After all, I don't really want to rot away in Wall Sina all alone... What would that accomplish anyway? What could I really do there without Marco? I need to find my own direction after all, can't go clinging to his anymore... What should I tell Jean anyway? We won't be able to speak much after tonight, especially since he's so Hell-bent on joining the Military Police and I probably won't anymore. How much am I going to tell Jean tonight? Jean..._

Thinking about the obnoxious copper haired man made you pause abruptly partway through peeling a potato. Your brow furrowed slightly, and you blinked your weary eyes, willing them to stay alert.

 _Jean... How do I really feel about that jerk anyway?_  
For a long time now, that "jerk" had stirred strange sensations in you. Long sideways glances, lop-sided smirks, a casual hand on your shoulder, the amiable way he held your battered hands as he re-bandaged them, the way his eyes softened towards only you... All of these things could cause your face to heat up, your composure to waver and your steady heart to falter and skip. You could feel your face heating up slightly just thinking about it.

But you also had your doubt. Your heart had been reacting to his gazes and attention more and more frequently recently, and you weren't sure if it was influenced by Marco's death. Shaking your head, you thought to yourself _No way do I wanna just rely on him with emotions that may be falsely placed, all because Marco isn't there to patch me up anymore... and besides, even if I do... like him that way... there's no guarantee that obnoxious hot-head feels the same way anyway._

"Hey, _____, you feeling alright? Your face is really red." Sasha's concerned inquiry brought your attention back, and you locked eyes with her sympathetic brown orbs.

You gave her a small nod before responding "Yeah, I'm alright Sash. Just got alot on my mind nowadays." You paused, sucking on your teeth as you considered your question.

"Hey, Sasha... Have you decided which military branch you're gonna join?"

Rubbing the back of her head, Sasha let out a nervous laugh. "Ehhh well, not exactly just yet. I mean, I have given it some thought, but... I guess I want to see what happens tonight before I decide for sure, you know?" 

You hummed out your agreement, for her words had almost summed up entirely how you felt about it too. Still thinking to yourself, you finished peeling the last few potatoes in the sack next to you just as Sasha finished hers.

As the two of you stood up with wobbly legs and creaking knees, the chef turned around to scrutinize your handiwork. "Pre'y good work 'ere, girls. Cheers fo' the help t'day! Dismiss'd."

Sasha chatted happily the whole way back to the mess hall for lunch, and when you arrived there your eyes drifted over to your usual table.

_Empty. Guess Jean is still busy wallowing in manure._

Sasha caught sight of Mikasa, and waved to you as she left to join her table. Grabbing a tray with a bread-roll, some soup and a glass of water, you wandered over to your bench to eat alone in silence. You could feel your sleep deprivation catching up to you, and ate as fast as possible so you could sleep some before the graduation ceremony.

After rinsing off your dishes again, you surveyed the mess hall one last time before leaving. Jean still hadn't come back from his chores. You sighed, scratching your head. 

_Guess I'll just talk to him at dinner and after the ceremony._ You thought wearily as you trudged off to the welcoming embrace of your bunk.

 

 

 

Jean gave out a heaving groan, pressing a hand against his spine as he stretched out. There were a few audible pops, and instant relief from the stiffness. Eyeing his surroundings, he figured himself and Connie still had roughly half an hour's worth of shit to haul out of the stables.

Connie stopped to give a stretch too, and called out to Jean from across the stalls.

"Oi, Jean! We're late for lunch man, think they'll save us some?"

Chuckling lightly, Jean responded "I might be lucky with _____ saving me some grub, but I'm not so sure Sasha will be as generous!"

Still grinning to himself at Connie's despairing reaction, Jean wiped his brow and continued heaving shovel-loads of horse refuse into the wheelbarrow. The smell was incredibly putrid, and the blazing sunlight heating up the air only exacerbated the situation. Jean had long since discarded his face-wrap, as it hardly blocked the pungent stench and simply made his face sweat more. 

All morning, Jean's mind had been fixated on her. Wondering how she was holding up, hoping that she would get some sleep this afternoon so she wouldn't look so damn pitiful, mulling over the questions to ask tonight, considering if he should finally lay his feelings bare...

 _But what if she doesn't feel the same way about me?_ The frantic thought shot through his mind like a crackle of lightning, igniting a deeply entrenched insecurity that he was forever attempting to keep under wraps. 

_After all, those two were inseparable. I bet they really were in love... But can I live with myself if I don't tell her tonight, before we go our separate ways? Fuck, who knows when I would ever see her again. She'll be joining the Military Police like she always wanted, and I? I'll be joining the Survey Corps in the end._

The thought of joining the most dangerous military legion disturbed Jean immensely. It terrified him to think of going out into titan infested territory, with a low chance of survival and a high possibility of an excursion achieving nothing. Yet still, he had made a vow to himself and a vow to the charred remains of his best friend and other companions.

Jean's hand snaked up to grip his chest pocket, feeling the tiny shard of bone kept securely there.

_I really don't want those bones to be disappointed in me. I'm no longer interested in coasting along in luxury. Somehow, I need to make you proud Marco. It's up to me to protect her for you now too... and yet, how can I protect her if I can't even be honest this time?_

Hurriedly loading the last of the manure pile into the wheelbarrow, Jean dropped his shovel and began pushing the cargo out of the stables and over to the manure pit on the other side of the field. The pit was here so that local farmers could come and collect as much of the natural fertilizer as they needed. But that didn't matter much to Jean, he just wanted to put as much distance between himself and the shit piles as possible.

Wheeling his empty barrow back towards the stables to meet up with Connie, Jean came to his conclusion, his revelation apparent and his mind clear.

_To protect her, and to make you proud Marco. I'll start here, tonight. I'm gonna tell her exactly how I feel about her, and show her that she'll never be alone again. And if we get separated, even if we never see each other again... even if I have to die on an expedition._

_At least she will know the truth._


	8. Clarity

_Strange flashes of imagery flickering in and out of view, like iridescent ripples fractured upon water._

_Stone floors with chalky sketches dusted across the dull surface._

_A small painting easel, precariously held together by old nails and propped up by the main room window of a quaint house._

_An old shirt, paint stained and crumpling yet familiar and well loved._

_Roses, as deep and crimson as fresh blood shimmering with crystalline dew drops._

_Long thick eyelashes, soft warm smiles and whispered words of encouragement. Mother...?_

_The images began speeding up rapidly._

_A special dinner, a celebration of some kind. There's vegetables and rice, as well as meat. Such a luxury, but what was the occasion...?_

_A lofty figure, striding proudly out of the front door into the blazing morning light, wearing his uniform like a badge of honor. He looks back over his shoulder, an affectionate smile crinkling his eyes at the corners. He speaks, the words soundlessly rolling out into silence._

_What was he trying to say? I can't hear anything anymore. Is that you, father?_

_Crowds of people, faces taut and pallid. Eyes bugging from their slack-jawed faces, bodies quivering in sheer horror._

_Despairing screams, trickles of sanguine fluids becoming speeding streams cascading down the cobble streets and down oppressively dark drains._

_Fleeing, panicking, crying out for mother and father. Where did they go? Why didn't they come back for me?_

_Grim, overwhelming fear clutching my heart in a numbing vice-grip. Tiny body being crushed and jostled by the suffocating throng of fearful humans. I can't breathe, daddy help me I can't breathe where did you go? Mother?_

_Faces, so many different faces, yet all of them wearing the same expression; fear._

_A thick cumbersome barge, packed to the brim with squirming people like worms in a fisherman's bait bucket._

_Icy water spraying from the erratic river below and the oppresive sky above, combining with hot tears flowing endlessly from  itching swollen eyes._

_The burning, crumbling city receding into the distance._

_Emotionless, glaring eyes and lolling tongues hanging from gaping jaws. Grinning and watching the boat full of delicious morsels rolling away towards Wall Rose._

_Screeching children, orphaned and terrified._

_An old tree, gnarled and withered._

 

"Hey, _____..."

 

_A frigid, bleak body of water. Sinking, sinking. Father why didn't you come back?_

_So cold, I can't move. I can't breathe. It's so dark here, did I go blind somehow? I can't remember why I'm here, how did I get down here?_

_Pain ceasing, the freezing sensation becoming almost peaceful. I could almost stay forever here in the water..._

 

"_____...?"

 

_Then, gasping. Biting-cold air, pinching at my cheeks. Coughing, spluttering, chest heaving against the feeling of my sternum nearly splitting._

_Who's there? A boyish smile, inky hair in a messy parted mop, wide chocolate eyes overflowing with concern, and freckles... those freckles..._

 

"_____!"

 

Your eyes snapped open as your body jerked awake violently with a sharp intake of breath. Vision hazy, you attempted to blink your way to clarity as you sat up. Sasha and Mikasa were both standing by your bed, expressions of concern apparent on their faces.

As realization dawned upon you as you looked down to your sheets, only to notice that your entire body was drenched in a tepid sweat, sheets clinging to your frame. You rubbed at your face slightly in an attempt to wake up further before peeling away the damp fabric with a bitter chuckle.

"Sorry guys, guess I was sleeping pretty heavily. Time to get ready for dinner, I presume?"

Mikasa hummed in confirmation, handing you a roll of fresh bandages. 

"We'll change your dressings before we go too. Those bandages need replacing by now."

With an aching groan, you heaved yourself out of your bunk and began the arduous task of donning your clean uniform. Eyeing your pile of filthy clothes, you made a mental note to do some laundry this week. You grabbed your jacket from the previous night, still grubby and stinking of smoke and blood. Gagging slightly, you carefully extracted Marco's note and the stack of filthy insignias and tucked the precious cargo into your chest pocket.

Sasha and Mikasa exchanged worried looks, but knew all too well not to ask about it. 

 

Once you had finished straightening out your jacket and fitting your boots, Mikasa sat next to you on your bed. Sleepily observing how gently the raven-haired girl wrapped your injuries, you mulled over how much she reminded you of a motherly figure. A sharp jolt in your chest reminded you that memories were painful, and should stay resting in the past.

Straightening up, the three of you left the dormitories and made a beeline for the mess-hall with Sasha eagerly leading the way. Sighing, you rubbed at your temples as you attempted to banish the hellish combination of dreams and memories that had plagued you earlier. As you approached the cumbersome oak doors, you glanced up and locked eyes with a solemn pair of amber orbs.

 

Brightening slightly, you called out to him "Jean, hey!"

 

He gave a quick smile that didn't touch his eyes, and responded with a quiet "Whatsup?" before turning away to pass through the doorway.

 

Puzzled, you wandered after him into the hall while Sasha and Mikasa branched off to their own groups to grab food. Your eyes roamed across his shoulders as you followed him toward the serving area, concerned as to why he seemed so tense. Bertholdt was on serving duty, and flashed you an awkward flicker of a smile as he handed you a steaming bowl of meat and potato stew. After picking out a breadroll still warm from the oven and a glass of juice, you wandered carefully between the bustling tables of trainees toward the window where Jean sat. 

 

Setting your tray down next to his, you slid into your seat and began slowly tearing the small loaf into bite-sized chunks. Jean didn't seem to pay much notice to your presence, eating in a subdued manner with his brows knitted together in a pensive expression.

You observed him quietly out of the corner of your eye, dipping nuggets of bread into the flavorsome stew and chewing them thoughtfully.

_Wonder what's eating Jean? He wasn't this bad this morning..._

Placing your bread down onto the tray, you leaned in closer to Jean and placed a hand gently upon his shoulder. He jumped violently, his spoon hitting the table with a loud clatter. Turning his startled gaze to you, his mouth opened in an unspoken question.

"Jean, what's up? You seem really out of it." 

His brow furrowed as he went on the defensive "Nothing's wrong, geez. Just tired, alright?"

You slowly removed your hand, but kept your eyes on his face. "Are you sure? I mean, if there's something wrong, you know you've got me right?"

Turning his attention back to his fallen spoon, he mumbled some half-assed words of thanks before continuing to eat.

Dissatisfied with his response, you tried a different tact to get him speaking again.

"So how did the chores go? Enjoy shoveling horse shit earlier?"

Jean let out a groan through a mouthful of bread. "Do I really needa answer that? Shoveling shit is as bad as it sounds - it's shitty."

You snorted at his lame response, resigning yourself to the silence. As you finished your meal, you failed to notice Jean's eyes flickering over you occasionally, or the soft blush adorning his cheeks.

Finally, a booming ring echoed from the belltower, signalling the end of dinner and the beginning of the ceremony. Washing off your dishes in the sink, your stomach felt like it was dropping.

_I still haven't decided, and I don't have much longer to think about this. Ah fuck..._

You and Jean wandered out into the mild evening air, feeling a cool brisk breeze whisk your hair around your face. Inhaling deeply, you shut your eyes and attempted to placate your nerves.

"Ready?" You asked lightly, turning to Jean. He was incredibly tense, that much was painfully obvious to you. His shoulders were hunched slightly, his eyes steely and lips drawn in a tight line. You wanted nothing more than to reach out to him, shake him by the shoulders, scream at him to talk to you, or just to pull him tightly to your chest and refuse to let go. To bury your face into his neck and let out all your anger, frustration and despair, and for him to do the same. But you knew you could not force him, and that he would relax and open up in his own time.

He grunted his response, eyes barely meeting yours, before the two of you strode out towards the gathering.

 

"My name is Erwin Smith, commander of the Survey Corps." The man's voice boomed out over the gathered trainees, willing them all into a rapt silence. He stood alone atop a vast stone stage, flanked by flame torches flickering erratically in the evening breeze. The orange glow of the fire was the only illumination available, as the moon was masked by thick cobalt clouds rolling in with the coming night. His presence alone was enough to hold the attention of everyone gathered there, he practically radiated confidence and authority.

With his deep-set azure eyes, he carefully studied the faces of those before him, eyes moving from one face to the next as he spoke calmly and assuredly.

"Tonight, you are all here to choose which military branch to join. Bluntly, I'm here before you all to persuade you into joining the Survey Corps. During the titan attack on Trost, you all learned how terrifying they can be," He paused, the air seeming to freeze, "And also, how limited your own power is. However, this battle has brought humanity closer to victory than ever before. This is all because of the existence of Eren Jaeger. By risking his own life, he has proven himself to be, without a single doubt, a friend and valuable ally to humanity."

Surprisingly, the atmosphere could drop even further. Some trainees exchanged furtive glances and muttered words, others simply stood trembling. Craning your neck, you spotted Jean near the front of the crowd, his eyes seemingly fixated on the flagstones. His hands were clenched tightly by his sides. 

Erwin seemed to ignore the activity amongst the trainees, instead continuing with his speech.  
"With Eren's help, not only did we stop the titan advance, but we may now have found a way to discover their true nature."  
At this, almost everyone let out a collective gasp of surprise. You saw Jean's head snap up to stare at Erwin, but from your vantage point it was impossible to see his expression. 

_A way to discover the nature of the titans?! Is that even possible?_

 

"We believe that in the basement of Eren Jaeger's Zhiganshina home, there exist answers about the mystery of the titans that he himself does not possess. If we can reach that basement, we will find a clue that will end this century of titan rule.

Your mind was racing, jumbled thoughts tripping and tumbling over one another.

_Could this mean we might win? Someday, we might take back Wall Maria and then beyond that too? Wait no slow down _____, don't get ahead of yourself again..._

Erwin's gaze pierced through the hazy smoke from the torches, his eyes burning with determination as he patiently waited for the surprise to dissipate before continuing to speak.

"We will head for the basement in Zhiganshina. However, this plan requires us to retake Wall Maria first. In other words, our objective remains the same."

At this point, two members of the Survey Corps who you recognized as Petra Ral and Mike Zacharius strode onto the stage behind Erwin, unravelling a large map and stretching it out for all to see. Erwin inclined his head slightly at the map before continuing.

"However, with the Trost gate sealed shut with the giant boulder, we will have to take the long way around, exiting from Karanes in the East. The four years we labored swathing a path for a large army have gone to waste."

Erwin's eyes continued to observe the trainees, gliding across their awed faces to read their reactions carefully. "In those four years, more than sixty percent of the Survey Corps lost their lives to the titans."

His gaze hardened, and you glimpsed what looked like sorrow flicker across his features before it was covered again by his stoic expression. "Sixty percent in four years. An insane figure."

There were more whispers of discontent, and feet shuffling uncomfortably. You gulped past a lump in your throat, feeling your shoulders begin to tremble.

_If that many elites can be slaughtered by the titans, what fucking chance would I have out there...?_

"Any trainees who join will be participating in our excursion beyond the walls, a month from now. It is expected that thirty percent will not return. In four years, most will be dead."

More inhalations of horror swept through the gathered cadets. Glancing sideways, you could see the small girl beside you weeping silently, her eyes as wide as saucers and her lip trembling uncontrollably. You snapped your gaze back onto Erwin, willing yourself to not crumble with fear like she was.

Solemnly, the commander continued his bleak speech. "Those who survive the four years will become superior soldiers with a high survival rate, truly a boon for humanity."

He shut his eyes for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts to wrap up his appeal. 

Baring his striking blue orbs to the crowd once more, Erwin called out "Knowing these discouraging facts, any who are still willing to risk their lives for the sake of humanity, remain here. But ask yourselves... are you willing to offer up your beating heart for humanity's advancement?"

Observing the terrified and shocked cadets, he ended his speech with a simple "That is all. Any of you who wish to join a different branch may leave now, as you are dismissed."

Panic rising in your throat like toxic bile, your eyes darted to the faces of those around you. Everywhere you saw the same expressions; fear, disgust, outright denial and nausea. Then, almost as a single entity, nearly everyone spun around and began marching away from the stage. 

Your knees trembled as trainees barged past your form, colliding with your shoulders in their determined haste to put as much distance between them and apparent suicide as possible. Your eyes began to prickle with hot tears as the knot in your stomach grew and twisted. The atmosphere of sheer terror was contagious and intoxicating.

_Why am I still here? Is this really the best option for me? I mean, what if I end up just dying and not being of any help at all? Wouldn't that make it all for naught!?_

Marco's grinning freckly face shot through your mind like a breath of clarity, shocking your senses and causing your eyes to widen. A smile you would never see again, hands you would never be able to grasp and arms that would never again hold you in a comforting embrace. All because titans snatched his life away, mercilessly and violently.

_So maybe that's why I should join the Survey Corps then. If I can somehow make a difference, if I can somehow help to bring change and to help humanity take a shaking step forwards... I won't feel like I'm failing you, Marco._

You shut your eyes tightly, willing your hands to stop shaking and swallowing hard against the blockade in your throat. 

_I'll make you proud, Marco. And not just you, mother and father too... just you watch._

Breathing deeply, you steadied yourself and stood to attention, one of the final remaining trainees clustered in front of the stage. Erwin regarded you all stoically, but his eyes held a softer tone than before.

"Can you die if you are ordered to?" He asked the group bluntly.

"I don't want to die!" A frantic voice cried out, you were tempted to look for who it was yet controlled yourself to focus on the commander.

A gentle smile graced his face, and immediately he seemed more of a warm and inviting person than previously. 

"I see." He responded graciously. "I like the looks on your faces."

Straightening up, his features became serious once more and his voice raised to an authoritative tone "Then I welcome everyone gathered here to the Survey Corps! This here is a true salute! Offer up your hearts!" he cried out, slamming his right fist assertively against his barrel-chest.

In response, you and everyone around you saluted passionately, calling out "Yes, sir!" in unison. Peering around, you could see the horror plastered across Sasha's face, and Connie sweating from the pressure. You couldn't help but feel concerned and frightened for their well-being, part of you wishing they had joined one of the safer branches instead.

Still proudly holding his salute, Erwin spoke softly once more, "You have done well to endure your fears. All of you are brave soldiers, every one of you has my heartfelt respect."

Dismissing the gathering and motioning that the ceremony had ended, the commander turned and strode off the stage. Turning to look behind you, you spotted Keith Shadis observing from the shadows. Trotting towards him, you called out.

Shadis's eyes locked onto you curiously as you approached, and waved dismissively at you when you saluted him.  
"What is it, cadet _____?"

You cleared your throat slightly, and dipped your shaking hand into your chest pocket. Shadis watched carefully, apparently unsure of what you were hiding in there. Gently, you extracted the stack of insignias you had removed from the uniforms of fallen cadets. Removing the most precious insignia of all from the top of the pile, you handed the rest to Shadis.

Accepting the macabre collection from you, he raised one quizzical eyebrow but asked no questions. 

"Good work, cadet. I'll have these sent to the families respectively. And that one?" He inquired, eyeing the patch you clutched to your chest.

"Well you see sir, this one was... Marco Bodt's. I was hoping I could hold onto it, as I would prefer to speak to his mother in person myself. Would that be acceptable, sir?"

You watched Shadis' usually stern and harsh features soften ever so slightly, his piercing gaze letting up. "That is acceptable, cadet _____. I expect you to do so respectfully. Now if that is all, you are dismissed." 

Saluting him once more as he strode away, you slid Marco's insignia back into your pocket and turned to look for Jean.

Who was standing merely two feet away, his expression more fiery and terrifying than Hell itself.

 

_Well, fuck._


	9. Quarrel

"Jean!? You didn't leave for the Military Police? But wh-"

"I could ask you the same fucking question, _____!" He cut you off, lips curled back into a feral snarl.

Stunned, you took a slight step backwards. You couldn't recall him ever being this livid at you in the past. Something had him pretty damn pissed.

Tilting your head and holding out open palms, you inquired "Kirschtein, can you calm down, please? Why are you acting like thi-"

"Are you that fucking blind, _____!?"

His words struck you like a slap across the face, stinging you and creating a fierce burning sensation in your cheeks. You could feel the indignant rage building high in your chest, aching to be unleashed. Clenching your fists by your sides, you closed the distance between the two of you until you were toe-to-toe, your burning eyes level with his chin.

Jean didn't move, choosing instead to hold his ground and glare at you. His cheeks were flushed, his whiskey eyes filled with an unfamiliar icy tone. Holding your eye contact steady, you inhaled deeply and relaxed your hands, urging yourself back to a calmer state.

"Come on," you murmured, willing your features to soften in what you hoped was an amiable expression, "talk to me, Kirschtien. We're supposed to chat tonight, remember?  So just calm do-"

"Don't you _dare_ tell me to calm down." Jean hissed through his teeth, lowering his face until his nose was nearly scraping yours. The sheer closeness of his well-formed face would normally have set your cheeks ablaze and your heart a-flutter. 

But not tonight.

Because you were getting _pretty fucking sick_ of being interrupted.

The fury rose once again, unbidden. A low snarl built in your throat as you snapped "Don't keep fucking interrupting me, Jean! Just fucking listen for once, would you?"

But apparently the copper-haired hot-head was out of patience. No surprise there, considering his patience levels were almost permanently low anyway. Seething, he spun around and began storming away towards the barracks.

Trotting after him, you exclaimed "Hey, hang on a minute! Jean, _LISTEN_!"

Reaching him, you threw out a hand and grabbed onto his sleeve in a vain attempt to halt his movement. In response, Jean's arm whipped out viciously to shake you off and caught you heavily in the stomach.

Losing balance and grip, you crashed into the dirt with a resounding thump as the air exploded from your lungs. Stunned, Jean stared at you with his mouth agape. His eyes were wide and drained of anger for a fleeting moment. Gasping for breath, you stared up at him with a pleading expression, confused at his outbursts.

_Why are you doing this to me now?_

Seeming to regain his furious momentum, the tall soldier broke eye contact and swiftly continued striding towards the looming buildings. He didn't bother looking back at all.

Still reeling from being winded, an ache building in your gut, you didn't even notice the figures crowding around you until a particularly large man blocked your vision. Reiner crouched down in front of you, concern written all across his features. Your (e/c) eyes met his golden ones, but you couldn't speak a word. Your throat felt incredibly tight as your injured feelings made themselves apparent.

"_____, did he hit you?"

Reiner's question was quiet and simple, but his tone poorly masked his true intent. He was most likely considering smacking Jean around for striking a comrade without adequate reason.

When you didn't respond, the herculean blond sighed and reached a hand out to you. Numbly, you grasped onto his arm with both hands as he hauled you to your feet. Your knees trembled slightly, and you shook your head in attempt to clear it. You could see the rest of your comrades around you, worried expressions worn by most. Mikasa and Reiner however were poorly masking their anger, and Ymir's face was stone cold. Almost frightening.

"Did he hurt you, _____? Answer me, girl."

Composing yourself, you shot Reiner a fake smile and reasoned "I'm alright, it was my fault for taking him by surprise. We got into an argument and I guess I pissed him off. Don't you guys stress about it, I'll chat to him when he's had some time to cool off."

Reiner and the rest of the group seemed to visibly relax, but Ymir's expression didn't soften all that much.

_Gotta remind myself to never piss her off, I wouldn't be surprised if she dismembered somebody if they got her mad enough._

As the group around you began to disperse, mumbled conversations drifting over your ears, you dusted yourself off. Looking down at your hands, you let out a groan of disdain as you realized that your fresh bandages were now soiled.

_Gotta change them again now, unless I want fucking infected cuts. Just perfect._

Kicking your feet like an indignant child, you slowly began making your way back to the barracks. In your mind, you kept replaying Jean's outburst. The way his hands has clenched til the knuckles were white, the bead of sweat trailing down his temple, how his olive skin had flushed with rage, the subtle tremble in his hunched shoulders, the clicking and popping of his jaw muscles as he grit his teeth.

Grumbling to yourself, you couldn't help but feel slightly guilty. He had accused you of being blind, but that had been a pretty groundless statement. You knew what had made him so furious, but just couldn't decipher why he had been pushed so far. Did he have no faith at all in your ability as a soldier? You had proven your worth through the arduous training, had grappled with the best, earned a prestigious rank amongst the trainees and had even helped destroy titans during the siege on Trost.

_So then, why...?_

Stomping into the barracks, you slumped down on your bed. Nobody else was in the dorm, presumably all in the showers. Wriggling out of your jacket, you extracted Marco's note from the pocket before flopping onto your back. You clutched the note to your chest, no need to read it. The words he had written were ingrained into your mind, tattooed upon your heart and burnt into your soul. The small sliver of paper crumpled in protest as you gripped it tighter in your bandaged fingers. Your eyes stung with unwanted tears, and you blinked furiously to attempt ridding yourself of them.

An old sensation was creeping upon you, something you hadn't been plagued by for five years now. The feeling crawled over your chest, tightening your airways with frigid, unforgiving hands.

_Loneliness._

Sitting bolt upright defiantly, you stuffed the note under your pillow and grabbed your pyjamas and towel.

_Maybe a nice hot shower will help me forget about that dickhead for a while._

 

 

 

The next morning, the overall mood of the trainees was subdued at best.

In the girls' barracks, everyone was packing their meager belongings into their trunks for transport. Lifting the heavy, rusting lid of your own trunk, you folded your dirty clothes beneath any remaining clean ones.

_Still needa do some laundry, fucking Hell _____, talk about being slack lately._

Slamming your trunk shut after piling the last of your clothes inside, you shot your arm under the pillow to pull out Marco's note. Pressing your lips gently to the creased and frayed paper, you slipped it snugly into it's usual pocket and stood up with a stretch.

Today was to be your last day in the trainee camp, for in the afternoon everybody would be moving on to their chosen military branch HQs. As you followed the other girls out of the building into the cool morning air, you surveyed the old training grounds sadly. Surrounded by familiar sights, smells and sensations, you couldn't help but reminisce.

In the past three years, you had all built an abundance of memories and bonds here together. You watched other trainees fall, fail, quit and even die. You had witnessed countless crushed dreams and broken bones, tearful eyes and fear stricken faces. You had heard the screams from night-terrors, and rejoiced in the laughter from companionship. Here, on these very grounds, you had strengthened your ties with Marco and constructed new ones with people like Sasha, Mikasa and Jean.

_Jean..._

"Hey, _____. Come on, let's grab breakfast before everyone else eats it all! Woooo, I am starving!" Sasha cheered at you, her trademark grin plastered across her face.

Without thinking, you pivoted around on one foot and threw your arms over her shoulders. Sasha's eyes shot wide open, her hands floating over your back as you clung onto her. You had tried your best to shove aside the agony in your heart, attempted to ignore Jean's callous actions and how it made you feel so lonely. 

But a girl can't be strong forever, right?

The tears came unbidden, the silent sobs shaking your frame as you gripped Sasha's jacket and buried your face into her warm shoulder. She embraced you in her comforting arms, gently stroking the back of your head as you trembled against her. She didn't attempt to placate you with words, and you were incredibly grateful for that. In this situation, words weren't helpful. Right now, you needed to quell the agonizing loneliness gnawing at your heart.

You needed a friend. You had never relied on anyone like this apart from Marco in the past three years. Comfort and loving arms is what you desperately needed, and Sasha could accommodate you without judgement.

All of the frustration, the misery, the anger and the helplessness came pouring out of you. It was an exhausting yet overwhelming relief to let it go. 

_Why does he have to make me feel so lonely now?_

After a couple of minutes of whimpering and sniffling, you straightened yourself up and pulled away from her. Wiping your eyes, you gave her a shaky smile and mumbled "Sorry Sash, I didn't mean to pile that on you like that."

Grabbing your shoulders, Sasha shook her head vigorously with wide eyes filled with conviction. 

"_____, don't you **dare** apologize! We're friends, and you've been through so much lately. I'm amazed that you've held it together so well up until now, anyone else would probably be a complete mess at this point. I'm proud of you."

"...You mean it?" you uttered, heart still throbbing relentlessly.

Nodding enthusiastically, Sasha looped her arm through yours and began steering you towards the cafeteria for your final breakfast in this place.

Looking up, you locked eyes with Ymir. She and Christa were standing a few meters away from you and had apparently observed the whole outburst. A warm blush crept into your cheeks as you realized they had seen you cry.

_Oh god, how the Hell am I gonna explain this?_

Christa's azure eyes were brimming with concern as you and Sasha approached, but as she opened her mouth to speak she was halted by Ymir's hand upon her shoulder. Quizzically, she gazed up at the tall freckled girl, but received no answer. Instead, the two of them fell into step beside you, and the four of you wandered into the mess hall.

Your gaze involuntarily fell to your usual table in the corner, sunlight splaying through the window across it's gnarled surface.

_Empty._

Your eyes flickered over the room desperately until you spotted Jean. He was sitting on the opposite side of the room, wolfing down oatmeal with Connie.

You could feel your gut twisting tighter, but before your misery could grasp you again there was Sasha's warm voice in your ear.

"Come on, _____. We'll sit with Ymir and Christa this morning. Forget that jerk for now, he needs to cool off."

Nodding silently, you followed Sasha to grab a tray of breakfast before sitting yourself in front of the tiny blonde Christa. She shot you the occasional enthusiastic smile throughout the meal, warming your heart slightly and helping you to forget your sorrow. For now, anyway.

The four of you engaged in small-talk between bites, discussing the day ahead and predictions on the Survey Corps headquarters. Little by little, their companionship and genuine mirth helped you to brighten up.

However, you didn't notice Ymir's critical eyes as she carefully observed you throughout breakfast.

 

Jean stepped out into the early sunlight, squinting grudgingly at the unrelenting glare of the sun. He was in a particularly foul mood this morning, remnant emotions from last night's outburst still festering in his gut. Scuffing his boot in the dust, he watched the other guys file out of the dorm and head towards breakfast. With a groan, he decided to follow suit.

A nonchalant glance at the girl's barracks halted him in his tracks.

Sasha was standing outside the entrance, embracing _____ tightly. Even from this distance, Jean could make out the way her shoulders were shaking, the desperate way her fingers had tangled into the back of Sasha's jacket. Ymir and Christa were there too, waiting quietly in the shade of the old building.

Jean felt his heart tighten involuntarily as the faint sound of sobbing reached his ears. She sounded so broken, almost as much as she had _that_ night. He grit his teeth as remorse washed over him, quelling the anger he had been involuntarily cultivating.

______ must be upset at me pushing her. I guess she probably hates me now._

Ymir turned slowly and locked her fierce eyes upon his own.

Jean's stomach dropped at the look on her face. He had never thought of _____ being close to the enigmatic girl before, but the way her lips curled screamed 'protective'.

Breaking eye contact with the ferocious Ymir, Jean swiveled around and hastily made his way into the mess hall. Realization was dawning upon him that his harsh outburst last night had done more damage than a few ruffled feathers. He silently cursed himself for being so quick to snap at her, so eager to use her as some kind of scapegoat for his frustration. 

He hadn't meant to be so forceful with her, he had only wanted to convey his exasperation and crippling fear for her safety. He hadn't meant for it to come out as a boiling tide of anger.

He hadn't meant to hurt her.

Snatching up a tray with oatmeal, Jean strode over to Connie's table and threw himself onto the bench next to the shorter boy. Connie stared at Jean wordlessly, but knew better than to pry at a time like this.

_Why couldn't I just be honest with her last night, like I was planning? Why is she the only person who makes my throat seize up? She wanted to talk to me, she was going to lay her life bare and I ruined it. **She trusted me** and I threw it back in her face._

Her face... he suddenly remembered how achingly close her face had been last night, he could recall her hot breath across his lips, the way her eyelashes fluttered as they framed her fiercely beautiful eyes... How easy it would have been to simply lean forward a few inches, press his lips against hers. How much truth that one gesture could have revealed.

_____ shuffled in with the other three girls, her red and swollen eyes grazing across the bustling trainees. Jean lowered his face to his breakfast, determined not to catch her gaze.

_All I do is hurt her._

With one lingering glance at the old table by the window, he noticed it was still empty. Confused, he glanced around until he spotted her nestled in next to Sasha. This was the first time in three years that they had eaten separately, and it felt like utter shit to Jean.

Frustrated, Jean grabbed his spoon and began shoveling oatmeal into his mouth.

_Maybe from now on, I should leave her alone._


	10. Journey

Once breakfast was finished, the rest of the morning dragged on languidly. Sweltering heat bore down upon the drained cadets from the blazing sun above in the cloudless sky. To exacerbate matters, there was barely a breeze to be felt. Dust kicked up by the restless horses or from scuffing leather boots would simply hang in the air, suffocating and irritating for any unfortunate souls to breathe in.

The trainees had been tasked to collect their luggage trunks and haul them into the horse-carts. There were a fair few instances of people getting their fingers trapped between heavy boxes, so many in fact that you began to wonder how they survived unscathed thus far. As you shoved a crate of food supplies onto the back of a cart, you winced at someone howling and yelling curses. Peering over, you caught sight of Connie gripping his left hand in agony with Sasha attempting to placate him. Observing the spectacle brought an ache to your heart, shoulders sagging slightly.

_I'm really gonna miss this level of lightheartedness. We only have a month left until... until we have to face the titans again._

Your gut twisted uncomfortably, and beneath your bandages your hands felt clammy. Just thinking about the horrifying creatures was enough to set your teeth on edge and make your skin crawl. Most days you endeavored to banish all thoughts of them from your mind. However, today was different.

After three long years of relative safety -minus the Trost incident-, snuggled up inside the inner walls, training against fake titans and each other, you were finally moving to the front lines. Just a few short weeks left before you all would be thrust out into the wide open fields of titan territory. Tall buildings and trees would be scarce, meaning defensive fighting would be significantly more dangerous. Many would die this time. Those who survive might die the next time around.

 _What if... I'm one of the ones to die on this expedition?_

The terrifying thought caused you to halt in packing the cart, a bead of sweat skidding down your forehead. You clutched your arms across your chest in a vain attempt to force your shuddering shoulders to cease. You knew it was pointless to dwell on thoughts like these, but sometimes they crept up on you.

_The commander told us that thirty percent won't be coming home. **Thirty fucking percent!?**... Who here won't be returning this time? Who might I never see again?_

Slowly, you gazed around you at the rest of the trainees. Connie and Sasha slacking off on the luggage cart, probably play-fighting about something again. Ymir carrying extra crates so tiny Christa is left empty handed. Armin and Mikasa talking to Shadis, going over some kind of checklist, the supplies one perhaps. Reiner and Bertholdt were harnessing the burly draft horses, reins draped over the seats of the carts. Jean shuffled out of the storage warehouse, arms laden with cumbersome maneuver gear. 

It definitely looked like he was having some difficulty, as his shoulders were sagging from the weight and his knees were ready to buckle. You shook your head with a sigh. The idiot had bitten off more than he could chew, and was probably going to end up with a face full of steel.

As if on cue, Jean stubbed his boot against the ground. Struggling to keep balance and to hold onto the gear, he staggered sideways in a panicked state.

You were mad at him. Sure, he's been acting like a real dickhead since the ceremony, and you had a bruise or two blossoming on your backside from being thrown down last night. Despite how pissed off, murderous, betrayed, crushed or heartbroken you felt from him snapping at you, lashing out and throwing your trust back in your face... you knew you should probably give him a hand.

Shoving your pride and indignation aside, you trotted over to Jean just in time to steady the hefty stack of gear. You gripped one bandaged hand beneath the bottom piece, holding your other hand steady against the top-most set of gear. You could feel the tips of your fingers pressed against his. Panting, Jean gave a groan of relief before peering around.

"Oh man, that was a close one haha. Thanks fo-" Jean's voice halted as his eyes locked with yours. You returned his gaze with a small hopeful smile, a slight curve at the corners of your lips.

"Need a bit of a hand, Jean?" You offered gently, attempting to add some warmth back between the two of you.

Jean's eyes narrowed as he broke his gaze away, choosing instead to glare at the dirt. You could see him gnawing at his bottom lip, as if struggling against saying something. 

_Is he nervous or something? What the hell is up his ass? Maybe I smell weird today? But that wouldn't explain his shitty outbursts last night..._

"Thanks, but I'm fine. I can handle it from here" He huffed stiffly as he barged past you, heaving the gear into the closest cart with a heavy clatter.

Christa caught your attention as you balled your fists. She motioned for you to walk over to her, her eyes filled with concern. Breathing deeply through your nose in an attempt to calm down, you turned to look once more at Jean's back.

"I'm not sure what the fuck I've done to deserve this cold treatment. But I sure as Hell hope it's worth it, Kirschtein." You snarled in a low voice, just audible enough for him to catch each word.

Spinning deftly on your heel, you marched over to Ymir and Christa to help them tie down the supply boxes.

 

 

"I'm not sure what the fuck I've done to deserve this cold treatment. But I sure as Hell hope it's worth it, Kirschtein."

Her voice was defiant and strong, but couldn't quite mask her pain. It reminded Jean of a cornered animal, fluffing itself up to defend itself and to hide weakness. But most of all, it reminded him of himself.

 _And why she's so upset happens to be my fault in the first place._

Refusing to look away from the cart, determined to keep his back to _____, Jean continued working on securing the maneuver gear. His fingers shook slightly as he tried to buckle the harnesses, frustrating him further in his agitated state.

Ever since he had stormed away from the ceremony last night, Jean had been unable to keep thoughts of Marco and _____ from plaguing him. It seemed that ever since that horrifying incident with Trost, Jean hadn't been able to make much sense of his feelings. He was crushed, heartbroken by the loss of his friend. He needed support, it was too difficult to handle alone. Above all, he wanted to be honest with _____, to help her cope with everything he was going through too. Jean couldn't control the creeping need to hold her close, to bury his face into her hair and promise that everything would get better somehow. 

However, despite his needs, he found himself questioning what he should do. 

Honesty was the obvious choice here, certainly. But for once in his life, being honest was difficult for Jean. He had dealt with rejection before, brushing it off and continuing on with life as per normal. Jean was tenacious, sturdy and unwavering in his pride and open mind. Only she had been able to match his obstinate demeanor and shake his very foundations. _____'s tenacity surprised Jean and left him in awe with her ability to take situations in her stride. The emotions that she instilled deep in his heart were his worry. His fear dwelling in the possibility of being rejected by _her_ , as he was uncertain whether or not he would recover from it.

She was difficult to read, that's for sure. _____ had this way of erecting a facade and shielding her inner emotions behind it. At times, Jean found it truly admirable. However, when it boiled down to attempting to discover whether she felt the same way about him or not, he found it utterly infuriating. She wasn't even the type to casually open up about her family or her situation with Marco, let alone her most intimate feelings. And to think, he had been so close to finally hearing it all from her.

Jean's chest heaved and ached pitifully as he reached up to grasp the tiny bone fragment in his jacket pocket.

_Damnit Marco, what the fuck should I do? To protect myself, I'm being so goddamned **selfish**... but so far all that's achieved is to hurt her even more. Distancing myself this way is unnervingly strange, I can't shake the aching feeling. Fuck man, you know her immeasurably more than I do... Hell, probably more than I ever **will**... Alright alright, I know what you would say. You'd tell me to quit hiding, right? Go back to being brash, honest and cocky right? The guy who doesn't hold back... right?_

Jean grit his teeth, biting down against the prickling sensation in his eyes.

_I don't know if I can do it this time, man. I don't think I can be there for her as much as she deserves while this feeling hangs over me. I need to talk her, I need to hear everything she has to say to me, but I don't think I can face her properly if I get rejected... What if I end up in an unrequited pit, unable to give her what she needs? With her unable to give **me** what **I** need...?_

Shaking his head violently to fight the melancholy haze, Jean spun on his heel and marched back into the warehouse. He had to keep working, keep stocking the carts. If Jean were to stop moving, he might crack.

_I... I need time to think. She's just gonna have to hang in there a bit longer, I guess. I have to sort out myself before I can help her._

Groaning as he surveyed the large amount of equipment still waiting to be loaded up, Jean wiped at the sweat on his brow with his sleeve. Grabbing another stack of maneuver gear, he heaved it off the ground and began staggering back towards the heavily laden cart.

_Help me Marco... I think I love her._

 

 

 

The journey to the Survey Corps HQ was a tedious and arduous one. 

All of the cadets were packed tightly in the back of covered wagons. Elbows and knees invaded personal space and shoulders bunched up together. The carts jostled relentlessly along the uneven terrain, stifling dust permeating the cramped space. On top of it all, the sweltering heat was enough to make you nauseous.

For the entire hellish trip, you were squished in-between Sasha and Mikasa. At least half of the time, one of them had an elbow tight against your ribs. For the other half of the journey, they **both** did.

Jean was jammed between Connie and Bertholdt on the opposite side of the wagon, almost directly facing you. Every so often, you could have sworn you caught him watching you from the corner of your eye. However any time you glanced at him, Jean seemed determined to look anywhere except for you. His eyes seemed troubled, and his mouth was set in a firm line. There was a faint red hue painted across his cheeks, but you assumed the heat and generally uncomfortable seating arrangement was to blame there.

When the congregation of wagons and carts finally trundled to a halt, it felt like an eternity had passed. A chorus of hoots and relieved groans erupted from the trainees as they poured out of the wooden Hell-holes, stretching cramped muscles and inhaling the fresh air.

As you emerged from the wagon, blinking like an owl in the sunlight, Mikasa helped you down due to your numb leg. You heaved a sigh of relief as you massaged the sensation back into the poor abused limb. After you had regained enough feeling in the nerves to stand straight, you joined the others in peering around in awe.

The Survey Corps headquarters was an incredibly expansive castle, older than any building you could recall ever seeing. The exterior was constructed entirely from iron-grey brick and granite, with towering turrets jutting up methodically. In the forefront, there was a colossal belfry, with impossibly large ancient bells visible through the openings. The main building was incredibly impressive, looming at six stories tall with a gracefully sloping tiled roof.

You were all standing in a massive courtyard flanked by sweeping stables full of sleek thoroughbred horses. Extending out from the castle's main body were wing buildings, each two stories high and lined uniformly with high rising windows. They ran along the borders of the courtyard, boxing it in save for the grand entrance-way leading out to the drawbridge where you had entered. Craning your neck, you could vaguely make out the edge of a moat running beneath the bridge. The entire base was surrounded by heavily fortified walls. A truly defensible position.

"Trainees, over here!" An unfamiliar voice called out.

You all turned to regard a Survey Corps soldier near one of the stables beckoning you all to approach him. He was a friendly looking man with a scruffy beard and a white cloth tied securely around his head. A calm coffee toned mare waited patiently beside him.

The trainees all gathered in front of him, and you all saluted respectfully.

"My name is Squad Leader Ness," the man introduced himself with an amiable grin. "And this is my trusty horse, Charlotte." He turned to scratch the mare gently on the cheek.

"More than anything, she _loves_ to chew off your hair. So be careful unless you don't mind being bald! Anyway, nice to meet all of you."

As if on cue, Charlotte leaned over to Ness and grabbed his head-cloth between her teeth, attempting to yank it off. You could swear you saw a large bald spot on his head as Ness tried to pull the fabric out of the horse's mouth.

 

That evening, after all of the carts had finally been unloaded and organized, you and your fellow graduates sat down to dinner. It was strange, almost unnerving to eat in an unfamiliar mess-hall. The room was enormous, at least twice the size of the hall back at the training camp. Broad wooden beams supported the distant, shadowed ceiling. Two rows of pillars ran parallel along the length of the room, carved from cold granite.

Filling the tables on one side of the hall were members of the Survey Corps, unfamiliar faces and voices. From some groups echoed booms of laughter and gleeful conversation, other tables weren't so rowdy. Your gaze carefully slipped across the soldiers with traumatized, empty expressions. Seeing their faces twisted in masks of pain set your nerves on edge.

In this foreign hall, you had managed to discover a sliver of comfort. An old table set against one of the windows. It looked as though the window faced East, more or less, meaning it would catch the dawn-light. Just like your old familiar haunt.

It was here you had chosen to sit, alone at first. When Jean had collected a tray of food and surveyed the room, you had shot him a hopeful smile in one last attempt to have him speak to you. Speak to you, sit with you, **acknowledge** you, at the very least.

But the fleeting instant that his melancholy eyes had locked with yours was painfully brief, as he immediately spun on his heel and stalked over to join Connie, Reiner and Bertholdt.

Crestfallen, you had glumly returned your attention to the rapidly cooling food on your tray. Suddenly, it seemed so unappetizing, and you considered skipping dinner entirely.

But the clatter of trays landing on your table snapped you out of your reverie, and you gazed up to find three pairs of eyes scrutinizing you. Ymir and Christa settled onto the bench opposite you, and Sasha flopped down at your side.

"Forget him for now, _____! After all, there's food to be eaten, and you realize that bad moods spoil meals right?"

Feeling slightly eased by her words, you flashed Sasha and the other two girls a grateful smile before digging into your meal. After a while, light conversation flowed more naturally. It wasn't much, but it helped you keep Jean out of your mind at least a little.

To signal the end of dinner, a thunderous boom rang out from the belfry. In scattered unison, soldiers heaved themselves up from their tables and commenced clearing away. Sasha and Christa rose from the benches, and as you began to join them you were halted by a firm grip on your wrist. 

Dropping back into your seat, you raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Ymir as she withdrew her tanned, slender fingers from your arm. Turning to the other two, she grinned, "You two go on ahead. _____ and I just need to have a brief _chat_."

Eyeing you curiously, Sasha and Christa agreed to head out first and took yours and Ymir's trays with them.

"What's wrong, Ymir?" You questioned uncertainly, watching the enigmatic girl carefully. But she did not respond, instead she motioned for you to wait as she observed the other trainees departing. Following her gaze, your eyes landed on Jean. 

As the copper-haired soldier moved to exit the hall, he shot you both a cursory glance, his eyebrows furrowed in what appeared to be apprehension.

Turning back to Ymir, you watched the corners of her mouth lift into a sneer as her eyes never left Jean's back until he had completely departed. Finally, she turned back to you with a suspiciously gleeful expression.

You felt yourself inadvertently recoiling slightly, having never seen her look so eager about anything.

"Well, this is a change from your usual indifference, Ymir. What did you want to talk about...?"

The tanned girl's grin widened further until she resembled a cat who had just been presented a bowl of cream.

"You're having problems with Kirschtein."

Groaning your confirmation, you rested your chin in one hand. "Pretty sure that's obvious to just about everyone by now. He's been dead-panning me since the ceremony."

Ymir leaned forwards across the table, eyes flashing wickedly. She spoke in low tones, as if in precaution against anyone else hearing her.

"Let's just clear things up a little bit first. We're not really friends, we've just trained and lived together here."

You nodded slowly, absorbing her words but still regarding her cautiously as she continued speaking.

"I don't go out of my way to just help people. I'm not a saint like Christa, and no way in Hell do I intend to be. As far as I'm concerned, being nice for the sake of it is a gross waste of my energy. However..." She leaned down on her elbows, the glint in her eyes almost maniacal.

"Even for someone like me, it's frustrating to see someone acting as fucking dense as Kirschtein has been. And from what I've seen, you're someone I wouldn't mind having indebted to me for a favor."

_Ah I get it now. I wonder what it is she's scheming..._

"You want to get him talking to you again, correct?"

You mulled over her words for a moment, considering your options. Finally, you looked up. Locking gazes with her, your face slowly broke out into a grin that almost rivaled hers.

"Yeah, I do. I assume this means you have a plan?"

Ymir threw back her head and let out a boisterous laugh. "Oh fucking do I _ever_ have a plan. Now listen up, I think what little Jeanie boy really needs is a bit of a push..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would just like to say, thankyou everyone who's following this story! I really appreciate feedback and the kudos you've left and I hope you're all enjoying it this far :) xx


	11. Loneliness

Ymir rose from the bench to head to her dorm, finished with explaining her idea to you.

"Remember, you owe me one for this, got it _____?"

You nodded, having already agreed to be in her debt for this favor. But you still had a specific condition you wished to confirm with her.

"Just one more thing, if that's alright Ymir?"

The freckled girl paused in her departure, cocking one curious eyebrow at you. Clearing your throat slightly, you met her scrutinizing gaze.

"I want to wait a week before we use the plan."

Throwing herself back down next to you, Ymir glared coldly at you, her face a deadpan mask.

"Why the Hell would you want to wait that long?" She demanded. "I thought you wanted to talk with him, so why the fuck would you change your mind now?"

"It's not that I've changed my mind about the plan, don't get me wrong." You attempted to placate the volatile girl. Gathering your thoughts carefully, you continued to explain yourself.

"Trust me, I'm not backing out. It's just... I know what Jean is like. Something is definitely bothering him, and yeah it's upsetting me that he's abruptly decided to cut me off. It makes me feel like I'm the problem, and that fucking _sucks_. But I know that if I had done something to directly piss him off, he would have no issue in making that very clear. Yet instead he stormed away and has been ignoring me and looking pitiful ever since. I get the feeling that whatever is bothering him is something unfamiliar that he doesn't know how to cope with."

To your surprise, Ymir listened quietly, seemingly processing your every word.

"I'm worried, Ymir, you've seen how he is. He doesn't hold his tongue usually, and it often gets him in trouble. I want to at least give him a chance to think about whatever it is bothering him, who knows, maybe he'll come talk to me of his own accord."

"You shouldn't leave it too long though, with that goddamn expedition coming up."

You could hear the grim meaning underlying her words. It wasn't necessary to speak of the all-too-real horrors that awaited outside of the walls. Like a deep, cimmerian cloud that loomed over all who joined the Survey Corps, the harsh reality was always on your mind.

More than anything, you wanted to be able to talk with Jean again, to be close to him and relax at mealtimes together. You missed the warmth of his shoulder next to yours, his boisterous laughter, the mischievous glint in his eyes, the way he had treated you so carefully since Marco's death.

_Up until now, that is..._

Whether by waiting for him to break the silence, or by executing Ymir's 'Push Plan', you were determined to clear the air with Jean. You were ready to lay your past, your history with Marco and your feelings for Jean bare. On top of that, you needed to hear him explain what had him so worked up.

You could feel the heat rising slightly in your cheeks at the thoughts of the copper-haired soldier.

Groaning, Ymir leaned against the table as she regarded you sternly.

"Two days." She stated bluntly.

"Five." You retorted, determined to buy Jean enough time to patch things up himself.

"Two." 

"Four? Please Ymir, he's stubborn."

"Tch," Ymir huffed, crossing her arms. "I'm not going to go any higher than three. Three days, _____, or I don't help you at all. Final offer."

Heaving a sigh of relief, you slumped down onto the table with your head perched on your forearms.

"Thankyou, Ymir. Seriously." You murmured, eyes half closing contentedly.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say." She responded gruffly, rising from the table and striding away from you. Shoulders hunched, hands stuffed in her pockets, Ymir swept from the hall without deigning to look back at you.

You smiled peacefully to yourself, having caught a glimpse of the slight smirk on the freckled girl's face as she left.

 

 

 

Your first night in the castle dorms had been a stressful one. Most of the female cadets had been bunked together in pairs down the East Wing, but you were one of the rare few without a roommate. Instead, you were assigned the small room at the very end of the lengthy corridor. 

The room itself was quaint without being cramped, having sparse furnishings. The bed along the left wall was substantially more comfortable than your old bunk, and the mattress didn't squeak nearly as much. Against the right wall you had a small table with two drawers and a decrepit looking wardrobe for storing your meager belongings. A narrow dusty mirror, slightly cracked in the corners, hung above the table.  The wall facing the door was almost completely consumed by a huge ornate window, paint curling away from the frame.

You appreciated the room, definitely. It was certainly a luxury to have a wardrobe and all this space to yourself for the first time in years. 

Yet, you couldn't shake the disappointment. 

Truthfully, you had been hoping to be partnered up with Sasha or Mikasa for sleeping quarters. Even Ymir or Christa, Hell, even a complete stranger from the older recruits would have been a welcome distraction. After three long years of bunking with an entire platoon of girls, it was almost unnerving to abruptly be all alone.

Being alone meant too much opportunity to brood and dwell. 

And so, that first night in the castle had been extremely restless for you. No matter how much you tried to soothe your mind and let sleep overtake you, fearful thoughts would simply boil back to the surface. Thoughts of your parents, thoughts of what was once your home ( _no God please, not again, please just let me forget that day already... I can't keep going back like this_ ), remembering the first day you met Marco. 

_Marco..._

The solitude was suffocating, and the silence deafening. Three long years with the group of girls, all happily co-existing and helping each other. Three years of comfort, to sudden loneliness. 

_Just like what happened with Marco..._

The tears had started without warning, blazing trails across your sensitive cheeks and soaking into your pillowcase. You simply stared at the ceiling, letting the hot liquid stream down. But as his happily smiling face, with those deep chocolate eyes and quirky dusting of freckles crossed your exhausted mind, the sobs came. Spasms wracking your body, face scrunched up in agony, you gradually slipped your head under the blanket. 

Curled up in a ball defensively against your own mind, you had wept and seethed and mourned until your body couldn't take any more. Exhausted, eyes puffy and bloodshot, you had fallen into a fitful sleep where even your dreams tormented your state of mind.

 

 

 

_Day one, no substantial progress._

You rubbed at your painfully swollen eyes, ignoring the concerned glances from Sasha or the worried brow-furrow twisting across Christa's porcelain forehead.

Disgruntled, you shoveled stew into your mouth, barely keeping any conversation with the other girls. It was hard enough just keeping your damned eyes open all day, let alone making idle chit-chat over dinner.

 

You were feeling particularly sour today. After barely sleeping last night, the day had been incredibly hot and time had dragged on relentlessly. The morning had consisted of chores with the fearsome Corporal Levi, the man knows as Humanity's Strongest Soldier. 

Frankly, you had expected someone tall and broad shouldered like the Commander, with a powerful presence and calm demeanor. As a result, you had been surprised to see a pint-sized man with jet-black hair and a poncey cravat. However, his low stature was compensated by his haughty attitude and steely glare, giving him the air of someone you _really_ didn't want to fuck with.

Between breakfast and lunch, you and the rest of the newcomers had been relentlessly ordered to clean the castle courtyard and stables. You had been assigned the East side of the courtyard, with the tasks of sweeping the flagstones and eradicating the weeds that grew between them. Jean and Bertholdt were also assigned to the East with you, tasked with clearing the massive piles of leaf clutter and wheeling the refuse to the compost heap.

Bertholdt had been nothing but sweet and helpful, bringing the wheelbarrow straight to you whenever you accumulated a pile of weeds. The gentle giant boy would stoop down, his huge hands able to pick up more weeds at a time than you. You would flash him grateful smiles and thank him. Bertholdt would respond either with an awkward "You're welcome." or simply blush and nod. 

You found Bertholdt's clumsy interaction and amiable attitude to be rather endearing. It was refreshing to have someone quiet and calm to make light conversation with, considering that Jean was doing his best to ignore you. In an aching way, Bertholdt's kindness somewhat reminded you of Marco.

But despite how Jean persevered to act as though you and Bertholdt didn't exist, you caught him observing you often. Crouched next to Bertholdt as you both collected plant debris, you could glance up between the rogue bangs of hair over your eyes and see Jean frozen, staring. 

Truthfully, you felt kind of guilty. To Jean, it must have really looked like you were attempting to make him jealous. This, of course, wasn't the case at all. But you could only assume that it appeared that way.

 

_No progress in the morning..._

 

After lunch, the cadets had endured a strenuous stamina exercise.

Across the moat and behind the castle stood a deep, expansive forest. According to the two senior soldiers tasked with observing your group, this was the usual place for 3D maneuver gear practice. The blond man, who had introduced himself as Erd, had revealed that the next day's activities would be held amongst these trees.

"Better rest well tonight, ankle-biters!" He had called out, a cheeky grin crackling across his face. "You'll need all of the energy you can get for tomorrow. These old trees are tough with wide trunks, so you'll need sharp wits to maneuver through them."

Groaning and exhausted, your trainee group had jogged around a winding track through the forest. Footing was treacherous due to thick, grasping mud and gnarled twisting roots. Desperately attempting to blink away your fatigue, you ran close to Sasha near the center of the pack. 

You could see Jean just ahead, copper hair slick with sweat. The way it clung to his cheekbones and neck fascinated you. Distracted, you didn't notice a particularly rebellious tree root until your left foot had hooked under it.

Emitting a strange bleating sound, you had slammed face first into the mud. Groaning, you pushed yourself up shakily to find Sasha howling with laughter next to you. The brunette girl was clutching her ribs, cackling and pointing. Behind her, Ymir was sniggering next to Christa, who looked decidedly worried.

_Ah Christa, always the saint._

Up ahead, Jean, Reiner and Bertholdt had all paused to watch the scene unfold. Bertholdt looked mortified, Reiner was grinning from ear to ear, and Jean... turned away and continued running, apparently not bothering to look back. 

Sneering to mask your disappointment, you grabbed Sasha roughly by the wrist and yanked her down. With a strangled yelp, she landed in the filthy mud next to you, face a mask of horror.

Ymir was roaring with laughter, slapping her knee and hanging from Christa's petite shoulders. You could hear Reiner's booming guffaw, and a stifled chuckle from sweet awkward Bertholdt.

_But of course, there had been no word from Jean that afternoon in the end._

 

 

"Don't look so down-trodden, _____!" Sasha's cheerful voice broke your reverie, bringing your attention to her crumb-covered face. "I'm sure he'll come around in time. Now, are you gonna finish that?"

The bubbly hunting-girl pointed to the bread-roll laying forgotten beside your now cold stew. Deciding you were no longer hungry, you tossed it across the table to her eagerly waiting hands. As Sasha devoured the bread in record speed, you couldn't help but laugh at her comical enthusiasm contrasted with Ymir's obvious disgust.

"Sorry, Sash," You played absently with your cold stew while you spoke. "I guess I'm just disappointed. I'd hoped he would be talking to me again today, I can't figure out exactly what is wrong with him."

"Well, he has two days left." Ymir drawled, smirking and winking at you. "I had Christa ask about this week's training roster, turns out that three days was perfect for our plan to wait."

You furrowed your brow, passing your confused look from Ymir to the petite blonde girl beside her.

"I asked Erd and Gunther what kind of training we have for the next few days," Christa piped up, her azure eyes bright. "Tomorrow, we have maneuver training all day. The following day we have chores again in the morning, and saddle training in the afternoon. On the day of Ymir's plan, we have strategic study before lunch and sparring after."

As Christa spoke, Ymir's grin spread wider and wider until the mention of her plan. 

"This works in our favor, _____!" The freckled girl crowed, eyes flashing mischievously. 

Sighing and nodding to her, you pushed yourself up from the table. Dismissing yourself from your friends, you headed to wash your dishes. All you wanted at this point was to sleep.

As you exited the mess hall, you failed to notice the pair of somber honey eyes that followed your movements.

 

 

 

That night, a restful sleep was once again denied to you. 

Despite the fact that you had managed to fall into slumber after what felt like hours of staring at the black ceiling, you still awoke feeling groggy and deprived. The muscles all over your body felt tight and slightly cramped as you eased yourself out of bed to stand on the chilly wooden floor. Your night-wear clung to your body as a result of your cold sweat, making you shiver feebly.

Staring at yourself in the dusty mirror, you gave a groan as you prodded at the dark circles crouched under your eyes. Muttering darkly to yourself, you pulled a roll of clean linen bandages from your table and changed the dressings on your hands. 

The injuries were substantially healed by now, the minor scrapes and cuts almost completely invisible. However, there were still some deeper gouges in the creases of your fingers and the center of your palms that still needed binding. These injuries you knew would never completely disappear, instead you would be left with glossy pink scars as a reminder.

After donning your uniform pants and shirt, you began the time-consuming task of buckling and securing all of your harnesses. The aching in your legs and fingers gave you a fairly ominous forecast for the day's activities.

_If I don't die during maneuver training today, it'll be some kind of miracle._

 

 

Maneuver practice was certainly one of your favorite parts of training, and part of you had been waiting eagerly for your first flight at the castle. It's funny how a couple of gas tanks and thick wires could instill a feeling of pure _freedom_ in a person. 

Deeply, you inhaled the fresh forest air in anticipation as you carefully attached the gear to your harnesses. The scent of evergreen and oak filled your nostrils, the chorus of chirruping birds and cicadas filling the atmosphere. This place reminded you achingly of the cherished spot under the willow tree that you and Marco had shared, and more than ever you wished that he was with you.

Around you, all of the other graduates who had joined the Survey Corps were busy harnessing up too, stretching and conversing happily as they worked. 

You clapped your hands against your face audibly, shaking your head and blinking furiously in attempt to clear some of your fatigue. You wanted your mind to be sharp and focused, so you willed away all thought of exhaustion and the memories that plagued you.

Your eyes trailed to Jean, standing roughly twenty feet away. You watched him wistfully  until he glanced over to you, eyes connecting with yours. His copper hair ruffled softly in the breeze, and his face held a troubled expression. For a brief moment, it almost looked like he was considering approaching you, his hand lifting slightly as his mouth opened. His eyes, almost melancholy, secured your gaze...

"Alright cadets, GO!" Erd yelled, firing his wires confidently into the foliage. The other senior soldier, Gunther, followed suit. Jean's eyes snapped away from yours as the air around you was filled with the hissing of wires and gas.

And then he was gone, pursuing the group.

Your heart fell slightly in disappointment, but you were determined not to be left behind. So without a second thought, you crushed your bandaged fingers against your triggers and escaped into the trees above.

 

 

The forest was impossibly beautiful from your high vantage point. You sailed through the canopy for what felt like hours, blinking desperately against your exhaustion and the biting wind that assaulted your face. At first, you had been able to admire the appeal of your surroundings, thick ferns clinging to the ancient trunks of the trees, patches of hardly flowers sprouting in the sparse gleams of sunlight. Desperately you clung to the feeling of being free, wondering if life without the titans would taste this sweet.

While flying through the trees, savoring the joyous sensation of the wind, you made a particularly harsh turn and swung sharply skyward. Aiming to soar over the large branch above you, a strange flicker in your vision caused you to panic.

For a fraction of a moment, you could have sworn that you had seen a tall boy. Dark hair parted down the middle and freckles scattered across his warm cheeks, he was standing above you on the overhead branch.

He had been wearing no maneuver gear.

You began to hyperventilate, eyes painfully wide and heart drumming frantically. But, as you had careened desperately to a bough nearby, you realized all too late that there was nobody there. A figment of your imagination, a mirage.

A hallucination.

Despairing, you braced yourself and made an emergency landing on the lower branch, scrambling to keep aloft. In an instant, Erd found you there, gasping and quivering.

 

"Cadet _____, _pay attention_!"

Groggily, you turned your head towards the sound of Erd, hanging high above you. You were perched precariously on the high branch, breathing labored. Almost completely prostrate against the bark, hands and knees only just keeping you elevated. Your chest heaved as you attempted to catch your breath, gaze wavering and swimming drunkenly.

Erd noticed that something wasn't quite right, and swung down to land beside you on the wide bough.

"Come on, Cadet." Erd said softly, crouching next to you. "What happened back there to make you lose your balance?"

_No no I can't tell you, please don't ask._

"Nothing." You managed to cough out, sitting upright as your heart-rate calmed down.

He leaned back slightly, a skeptical look on his rugged features. Obviously, he wasn't buying it.

"I don't believe you would have ranked tenth in your training squad if it were normal for you to lose balance like that. So what happened back there? You can't afford to lose control like that on the battlefield, your life and those around you will be on the line."

_It's not like you'd understand me even if I told you. And I ranked eleventh. I never truly belonged in the top ten..._

"Sorry, Erd sir. I haven't been sleeping well the past few days, and I guess it caught up on me." You sighed, pulling yourself into a sitting position, legs crossed beneath you. "I'll be more attentive."

Erd flicked you a warm smile before rising to his feet. He offered you a hand, pulling you to a standing position on the branch.

"Well it's almost time to call it a day, anyway. We've been out here for a few hours now. You know, there's a couple of soldiers in my squad who had some difficulty settling in too. Petra Ral and Auruo Bossard, you could try talking to them if you have any worries."

After seeing you nod in agreement, Erd shot his wires into a towering nearby tree and whizzed away.

Internally you thanked your lucky stars that the blond soldier had dropped the subject. After all, how could you explain to him that you had been imagining your dead friend standing in the trees?

_I'm really not going to make it on that expedition if I keep this up. For the love of God, I hope I get some sleep soon. My mental health won't hold if hallucinations become frequent._

Erd called out to you, signalling that it was time to return to the castle. You cast one last wayward glance at the branch above you. Empty. It always had been, no matter how much you yearned and wished that Marco was still alive and here with you, soaring through the canopy together. As the familiar cold sensation of loneliness embraced your body, you fired your wires and followed Erd.

Back to the castle, for yet another subdued dinner.

 

_Day two, no progress with Jean._


	12. Guilt

_This city is desolate._

_It resembles the remains of a catastrophe, or a war-zone, large areas close to the inner wall comparably more intact than the buildings towards the outer wall._

_Great plumes of smoke rising lazily into the crimson, darkening sky, embers dying in silence upon the breeze. They almost resemble the towers that once stood there, now lying in ruins beneath their cloud impostors._

_Windows, shattered and strewn across the pavement, discarded iridescent fragments reflecting the ominous light. Shards crunch and crackle beneath thick leather boots._

_Cracked, crumbling cobblestone with slow shuffling feet scratching across their surface, hands clammy and trembling. I recall having gloves... Did I discard them?_

_So many faces, passing by silently without a glance. They're all wearing the same expressions of fear, of agony and lost hope. Almost all of them are soldiers, broken and defeated with dead eyes._

_But I cannot trouble myself with their plight for now. I have a selfish mission._

_I'm searching. I'm searching for something that a fearful  part of me hopes I will not find._

_Something...  someone? My memory is too hazy, eyes slipping in and out of focus._

_Breathing is getting so difficult, but I can't tell if it's the fear building in my chest or the burdened atmosphere causing it. The stench of dust, blood and sulfur is stagnant and overpowering, the cloth across my face can't block it out entirely. This place reeks of death._

_God, I'm so tired..._

_This desolate, ruined city seems so familiar yet so strange all at once. Have I been here before? I feel like I should be walking aimlessly, but my feet appear to be leading me somewhere... But where?_

_All these streets look the same to me, except some bear different scars._

_A crumbling wall exposing the innards of a home here, a horrifying streak of blood there..._

_Memories vaguely returning... Is this Trost? Or... is this home?_

_Mother? Father? Are you out there...?_

_A crossroads. Feet still  leading down a path of their own choosing, turning onto yet another desecrated road. But this one is different somehow. The air seems thicker here, my throat is getting tighter... Why?_

_It feels as though time is slowing down. Boots scuffing along the filthy cobblestones, dried blood and grime smeared haphazardly across walls and pavement alike. This street is almost completely devoid of people, but I can see a lone figure in the distance._

_My senses feel like they're going haywire. My heart hurts so goddamned much, my head is spinning, ears ringing..._

_The figure is  not like the others, fear stricken and fleeing. He's standing still, back against a wall. He doesn't look any older than twelve years old, still a young child. He won't look this way, despite me approaching. Who...?_

_Halting in front of the young boy, I can't see his face clearly. It's hazy, like a reflection in muddy, rippling water. Dark messy hair, faded blue sweatshirt... Why are you so familiar to me?_

_Slowly, the boy raises his head. Freckled cheeks, huge coffee eyes drilling into mine. I remember you. Marco? Its you, right Marco?_

_Words won't come out, my mouth is hanging open silently. Why can't I speak? Why is the air getting heavier? The ringing is getting louder._

_"Why did you leave me, _____?"_

_Wait, I never left you Marco. Why would you think that? I've been here for you alwa-_

_"You left me alone to die."_

_What!? This can't be happening, I never left you,  Marco, I could never leave you. You're not dead, you're still here with me right?_

_The small boy is no longer standing here, instead a young soldier has taken his place. Tall, willowy and tense, his crisp uniform marred with filth and bloodstains. His dark hair is parted down the middle tidily, no longer the scruffy, disheveled mop. He looks so unhappy, Marco please tell me what's wrong? Your eyes seem too bitter, too cold..._

_"You promised to never leave me behind, _____. We promised each other."_

_Why do you keep saying these things, Marco!? I can't breathe, I can't speak. My heart feels as though it's dying, Marco, help me-_

"Hey, Cadet...?"

_"You stayed in the safety of the walls, while I died alone out here on the street. I was left here like garbage."_

_Skin peeling away from the right side of his face, arm dissolving and melting away to expose ribs and innards. Half skeletal mouth twisted in fury, one eye burning with rage. Left hand clenched into a fist, slowly approaching with steady, purposeful  steps. The keening noise in my ears is too loud, it's so painful..._

_"Now look at what you've done, _____."_

_I'm terrified, **holy shit I'm fucking terrified**! Marco why are you doing this, I was on the supply team, I had no idea-_

_"Don't fucking make excuses with me."_

_I need to run, why can't I run? My legs feel like lead. There's someone else behind me, who? Help me please!_

"....Cadet, what's wrong?"

_Copper hair, golden eyes sunken into dark sockets, a white cloth tied across his tired pallid  face. Jean! Jean please, help me, I don't understa-_

_"It's your fault Marco died, _____."_

_Oh god no, not you too please Jean don't do this to me!_

_"You wonder why I don't speak to you anymore? Because it's all your fault I lost my best friend."_

_Marco is right standing right behind me, breath cold and stagnant. One icy hand reaching up to grip onto my throat. I can't fight him, I can't strike back, why can't I move? His hand is squeezing too tight. Marco, Marco you're hurting me let go!_

_"How could I ever love you back after this?" Both voices, in perfect unison. Like a harmony of two fallen angels, the sound hollow and haunting through the silence as it blends with the ringing in my ears._

_"You've left us both alone. Now it's your turn."_

_Hand on my throat choking, I can't breathe, they're both grinning like mad dogs...  oh shit fuck, someone help me fuck fuck fu-_

 

"_____, WAKE UP!"

Forcefully, you snapped awake with a sharp, terrified gasp. Your body was drenched, cold sweat causing your sheets to cling to your shivering body. Panting violently, your painful eyes darted all across the room, analyzing where you were. A large ornate window, an old creaky wardrobe, a small table... A short figure leaning over your bed, one hand grasping your shoulder.

_Am I... in my room? It was all a dream then...? Who's there...?_

Short cropped hair tucked behind her ear to reveal wide, concerned eyes illuminated by the sliver of moonlight creeping in between the curtains. Her brows were furrowed, pert lips drawn in a tight line.

"Cadet _____, are you alright? You were screaming and calling out in your sleep."

Slowly, agonizingly, you pulled yourself into a sitting position as your breathing slowed. All of your muscles felt incredibly tense, as if they hadn't relaxed at all during your sleep. You could feel the slight trembling in your shoulders as reality returned to you, the nightmare slowly slinking away from your conscious mind.

You rubbed at your eyes with shaking hands, slick with fresh tears and sweat. Even your bandages were soaked, the dampness cold against your healing injuries. You narrowed your swollen eyelids, squinting in the darkness to identify who was standing over you.

"...Petra? Is that you?" Your voice was hoarse, breaking awkwardly as you spoke.

The petite woman appeared to smile, gently sitting herself on the edge of your mattress. Your vision continued to swim, eyes perpetually brimming with tears. Leaning towards you slightly, she reached out to press a hand to your damp forehead. You averted your gaze slightly, attempting to blink away the tears and disguise your distress.

"Yeah, it's me. You're alright now. You don't appear to be feverish, did you have some kind of nightmare?"

_"Now look at what you've done, _____."_

Your breath hitched in your throat, eyes widening from the painful memory. The nightmarish vision of Marco's dead visage crept into your mind. The twisted grimace, the gruesome injuries.

_"It's your fault Marco died, _____."_

Jean, his pale dusty face sunken, covered with a filthy white cloth. Amber eyes accusing and devoid of warmth. Your hands began to shudder violently, eyes filling up with tears as you stared at Petra in horror. You could just barely see her face scrunching in worry, the concerned frown returning.

 _"How could I ever love you back after this?"_ Their hollow voices pierced your mind in haunting unison.

Your final thread of composure snapped ruthlessly.

Your entire body shook as sobs began wracking your frame. Covering your face with your hands, you brought your knees up to your chest. Hot, despairing tears streamed between your clammy fingers to further soak your linen bandages, and your breath came in sharp gasps. Exhaustion and the terror of your nightmare made you incredibly dizzy as you wept. 

All of the misery for Marco's death, the anger for your helplessness, the indignation and confusion from Jean's attitude... all of it came pouring out of you in a raw torrent of emotion, like a river dam rupturing.

"Oh no, no no _____, please don't cry!" Petra looped her arms around you, despite your damp clothing and held you close to her petite body, rocking you gently back and forth.

"Don't cry, shhh, it's gonna be alright now. It was only a bad dream, okay? Whatever it was, it can't hurt you now."

"But... it can." You whimpered in response, scrunching your eyes tight as you instinctively reached up to clutch onto the back of Petra's night gown.

"How, _____? How is your dream gonna hurt you now?" She said soothingly, one hand amiably petting your lank hair.

"Because he p-probably does... blame m-me." Your voice cracked again, overwhelming misery clamping tight on your chest. You continued to sob piteously, your forehead resting against Petra's slender shoulder.

_Is this really why you haven't been speaking to me, Jean? Do you blame me for Marco dying? Do... Do I blame myself for it?  If I hadn't been on the fucking supply team, or if I had abandoned post and gone to find him... maybe I could have saved him... Then we wouldn't even be in this situation, would we? The three of us could have joined the Military Police... Marco could have fucking lived out his dream!_

"Shhh, it's okay _____. Nobody's blaming you for anything, alright? You can't go creating monsters out of men in your head. Doing that will just taint your trust in your comrades, which can have terrible consequences. It can be fatal to lose faith in your fellow soldiers over personal disputes, _____. On top of that, beating yourself up over things out of your own control will only result in more stress and sleepless nights. I don't know what your nightmare entailed, but you gotta put it out of your mind. Can you do that for me?"

Sniffling, shoulders still shuddering violently, you attempted to nod at Petra. You knew that you wouldn't be able to forget the dream so easily, or lose the fear and guilt until you spoke to Jean. Despite this, you wanted to placate Petra so that she need not worry about you.

"Thanks, Petra..." You murmured hoarsely, pulling away from her and wiping your puffy eyes. 

_I seem to be making it some kind of habit to show all of my emotions to people these days... Have I really become so weak without him?_

Petra rose from the bed, stretching her shoulders with a wide yawn.

"There's still a couple of hours before dawn. Why not try having a shower and put on some dry clothes before you go back to sleep? Might help you feel a little bit better." She said, smiling warmly in the dim moonlight.

_But maybe I've always been a fool to think I could rely on one person alone._

"Thanks, I think I'll go do that." You murmured in response, rubbing at your face with your bandaged hands.

"Oh and _____, don't hesitate to come see me if you need anyone to talk to, alright?"

Still smiling, Petra turned and whisked out of the room, closing the door soundlessly behind her. In the shadowy, silent room, you leaned back against the wall and stared blankly at the ceiling above you. The room felt frigid and uninviting, the night chill making you shudder in your damp clothes.

_I really don't want to dwell on that dream. I don't want to make myself feel like I'm to blame for Marco... dying. But I guess I'll be able to speak to Jean either today or tomorrow, right?_

Reaching under your pillow, you pulled out the precious note. The paper was terribly creased, fraying at the edges and covered in dark smudgy fingerprints. Despite all of that, you raised it to your lips to kiss the letters lovingly, trying desperately to hold onto the joy that Marco's heartfelt words brought you.

_I'm gonna make things right between Jean and I, Marco. I promise. For you, and for myself. I need to clear everything up with him... and let him know how I feel._

Slipping the note back into it's safe place, you eased yourself off the bed. Yawning loudly, you wandered to the wardrobe to grab your towel.

 

During the morning chores, you had no opportunity to catch Jean's attention.

After a rather hurried breakfast, chores and cleaning were delegated in the regular fashion.

Wandering through the courtyard toward the jobs list, you could feel the icy stares following your back, incessant whispers trailing to your ears. Apparently, word of your night terror had spread fast.

Your tired eyes groggily raked over the noticeboard until you found your name, scrawled next to 'MESS HALL'. Assigned with you were Ymir and Reiner, a volatile combination.

You could feel your heart dropping with disappointment, as you had been silently hoping to be teamed up with Jean. In a tame situation like cleaning in a small group, it would have been fairly easy to casually pull him aside and express... something to him. 

_Shit, I still don't really even know what to say to Jean. Where the fuck do I start, anyway? I had it mostly figured out for a chat after the ceremony, I mean all he really wanted to know was about my childhood, and Marco...  but then he went and messed up that plan. It feels like the more days that pass, the harder it is to find the words I want... no, **need** to speak._

Returning your attention to the roster, you searched until you found Jean's name. He had been assigned to 'MALE DORMITORIES, ROOMS 4, 5, 6'. The names written with his caused you to grimace in sympathy. Connie and Eren. 

_Luckily, Jean gets along just fine with Connie. If it were just him and Eren, there would most likely be bloodshed. Jeez, the sort of pointless shit they would argue over, idiots. I wonder if whoever wrote this list partnered them up as some kind of sick joke... Or it may be just some unfortunate twist of fate. Either way, Jean's gonna be in a foul mood._

Sighing quietly to yourself, you spun on your heel and shuffled off towards the mess hall.

 

Thankfully, cleaning with Ymir and Reiner had been less dangerous than you had expected.

Half of the time, you had been anxiously awaiting some kind of off-handed comment from Reiner about Christa, or some kind of snide remark to Ymir to make her blood boil. They always seemed to have a way of irking each other. It wasn't anything severe like Jean and Eren's unrelenting rivalry, filled with distaste and grudging truce. It was more like a kind of playful banter, teetering on the knife-edge of rivalry.

In a way, they were usually entertaining to observe. In the past, you might have stopped and laughed as they attempted to arm wrestle to settle a dispute. But lately, your mind was perpetually elsewhere, wandering wistfully after a copper blond block-head and a freckled saint.

At the very least, their hollow insults and habit of one-upping each other was a slight distraction, keeping the nightmare from creeping back into your mind.

As you tiredly swept the expansive hall, there were times you could have sworn Ymir was watching you closely. However, any time you raised your head to catch her gaze, her eyes would conveniently be elsewhere. Slightly disgruntled, you brushed it off and continued to work, attempting to distract your mind from wandering into dark corners.

"Hey guys," Reiner's voice broke through the silence after what felt like hours of cleaning. "I think lunch is gonna be starting any minute now. We should pack up and get some grub."

Ymir snorted, straightening herself up. "Better hope you did a good enough job over there," She drawled, leering at Reiner. "If that Lance-Corporal Levi comes in here and tells us to redo this shit, I'll be blaming you."

Stretching your back, you surveyed the room. 

From what you could tell, the cleaning was adequate enough. Not that you particularly cared about it at this point anyway, but redoing it wasn't exactly desirable. 

_I'd probably drop dead if I had to scrub this hall again, on top of the fact that we have saddle training after lunch... I'm still not sleeping enough to cope with this shit. Maybe I should try knocking myself out at night. Should be easy enough to find something heavy..._

With a sigh, you collected all of your cleaning supplies and staggered past the bickering Reiner and Ymir, grumbling bitterly to yourself.

 

Frigid water droplets cascaded from the tip of your nose. You bowed your head low over the sink, exhausted eyelids fluttering closed. Repeatedly, you filled your wrapped palms with the cool water and splashed it on your face, beads of liquid streaming down your neck and arms. The sensation was soothing, and the cold water was slightly helping to shock your senses awake.

Straightening up with a sigh, your shook your head to clear it and dislodge any remaining droplets. You steadied yourself against the sink, feeling dizzy. Gazing at your reflection in the mirror, you inhaled sharply at the sight. 

Your eyes, slightly bloodshot, were enveloped in dark bruised lids. Your top eyelids drooped slightly from their exhaustion, your once bright (e/c) orbs dull and almost listless. Your skin looked drawn and pallid, the usual vibrant tone absent. Even your hair appeared to be suffering, hanging pathetically in limp clumps.

_Damn, the stress and lack of sleep is really starting to show visibly... Not much I can really do about this, now. Gotta just hope nobody really notices._

In a small attempt to recover your appearance, you combed your fingers through your hair, smoothing it back and trying to give it some kind of shape. When that failed, you grudgingly conceded and simply tied it up into a scruffy ponytail.

Still dizzy from exhaustion, yet feeling slightly more awake, you wandered down through the corridors to the mess hall.

When you arrived, lunch was almost over. Half of the soldiers had already finished eating and were leaving for their afternoon training.

_Shit, how long was I in the bathroom for? Not only am I losing sleep, I'm losing track of time too... Maybe I'm starting to lose my mind?_

As you weaved between the tables, walking towards the serving area, Ymir, Christa and Sasha caught your attention. They were waving from their usual table, Sasha cheerily calling out with her mouth full of food.

"Hey, _____! We saved you some food!"

Seating yourself on the bench next to Sasha, you eyed the group of girls suspiciously.

"Saving food? That doesn't sound like the Every Woman For Herself Sasha that I know." You murmured, raising an eyebrow at her.

Sasha's only response was pausing in her gorging to sheepishly grin at you before pointing at Christa. You turned to regard the petite blonde across the table, finding her beaming at you.

"Actually I managed to grab you a filled bread roll before they were all gone. I'm sorry it's not much, _____, but it should hold you over until dinner."

Accepting the roll from her tiny hands, you flashed Christa a tired but grateful smile before tearing into it. Surprisingly, you were hungrier than you had realized, and devoured the roll in almost record speed. Sasha would have been proud, if she hadn't already been preoccupied with her own food.

 

After having finished eating and clearing away, the four of you exited the mess hall and made your way through the expansive courtyard towards the West Stables. Other members of the 104th were milling about, carrying saddles and reins while they selected horses.

As you reached the horse stalls, you all went separate ways to find a mount. The smell of hay and horses filled your nostrils, a warm earthy scent that was almost relaxing.

You wandered casually along the end stalls closest to the castle. You were practically alone up this side of the stables, as most of the others were saddling horses closer to the gate. You weren't bothered by this in the slightest, in fact the lack of voices was welcome in your exhausted state. The only sounds here were the distant bustling of the castle, the soft nickering of horses, muffled hooves pawing against hay.

You walked from stall to stall, admiring all of the horses individually. Almost all of them were black or brown, sleek creatures with almost slender bodies. 

_Light and fast for escaping titans, I suppose._

As you finished gazing at a particularly charming mare, you turned your attention to the last stall.

As your eyes fell upon the creature standing there, you balked slightly. This horse was completely different to the rest of them. His coat was a dappled slate gray, dark freckle-like patches across his neck and rump. His mane and tail were jet black, stark in contrast to his fairly light body. But it wasn't his colors that caught your attention.

_Fucking Hell, this horse is a monster!_

The gelding stood at least two hands higher than the rest of the Survey Corps horses, and had a much broader body. His legs were powerfully muscled, thick and brawny with longer hair draping over his hooves. With one deep coffee brown eye, he regarded you calmly as you steadily approached.

You gazed at the horse in awe, reaching out tentatively to stroke his wide muzzle. Your un-bandaged fingertips could feel the velvety quality to his nose, and he snorted gently as you petted him.

"I see you've taken a liking to my horse." A sultry female voice sounded from behind you.

With a sharp jolt, you whipped around to see a tall, slender woman standing a few feet away. She wore a long white coat over the regular Survey Corps uniform, unbuttoned and hanging casually. Her hair was tied up in a messy ponytail similar to yours, and an unlit cigarette perched between her lips. Her posture was casual and relaxed, sleeves pushed up her corded toned arms to her elbows and hands resting on her hips.

When you didn't answer, she grinned and removed the cigarette from her mouth to tuck it behind her ear. "I'm one of the squad leaders of this rag-tag army. I also run the castle infirmary and train medical soldiers."

Realizing you had been staring at her, you blushed slightly. "He's yours? He's... gorgeous. But if I may as, what is he exactly? He's so much bigger than the rest of the horses here."

The woman gave a small chuckle, striding towards you. You noticed a limp in her gait, presumably from her right leg. Standing by your side, she reached out to scratch the huge horse's jaw as he leaned into her hand.

"His name is Chester. He looks so different to the other horses here because he's a cross breed. You see, the mounts used by the Survey Corps are bred specifically to be light and agile. We need horses that can outrun titans with ease while still carrying the weight of a soldier. Chester here is mostly the same breed, but he has some draft horse blood in him too. That's why he's heftier and stronger, but he can still match the speed and stamina of the smaller horses. Draft horses are getting rare these days, after the fall of Wall Maria. They were mostly utilized in outlying farms and provinces, used for pulling carts and harvesters."

The woman leaned onto the gate, reaching up the horse's neck to give him a scratch behind the ear.

"This big bad-ass is the perfect companion for me. His size compliments my line of work perfectly. You see, as the chief medical officer here, it's my job to be the first on scene in the event of a casualty in the field. Chester here is wide and staunch enough to carry myself and an injured comrade back to the wagons. He can even outrun titans while carrying two people, but only in short bursts."

Turning to you, she flashed you a hearty grin. In the light, you noticed a huge scar running up from under her collar, spreading across the left side of her neck and ending on her jawline. 

_Shit, I wonder what caused that..._

"Well, I'm guessing you're with the group doing saddle training today. Wanna take Chester? It's rare that he lets a stranger touch him so easily, and I haven't had chance to get him any exercise lately. Plus, most of the other trainees here are too scared of him to let him out."

Your eyes widened at the Squad Leader's generous offer, and you turned to look at the massive horse in wonder. He was still calmly waiting, your hand resting upon his nose.

_She would trust me to take her precious horse, and she only just met me?_

"Are you sure?" You looked back at her shyly. "I mean, I haven't even introduced myself yet. My name is-"

The woman held up her hand, cutting you off.

"I'm sure, don't stress about it. Like I said, Chester is trusting of you, so I don't see why I shouldn't be. Oh, and as for introductions, you can just call me Doc for now. I'll find out your name next time we meet."

With that, she unlocked the stall gate and began saddling up Chester. You watched her curiously as she worked. She was surprisingly fast at outfitting such a massive horse, agile despite her limp. You could guess that she had been through alot of expeditions, as her experience for saddling up the burly horse was obvious.

When Chester had been bridled, Doc handed you the reins and motioned for you to lead the huge creature into the courtyard. As you walked the short distance out of the stable, you were surprised at how little direction you needed to give him. He was incredibly obedient, and seemed happy to simply follow your footsteps instead of being pulled.

Doc strode out of the stable with a wolfish grin. "Need a hand getting up there? You're pretty tall for a girl, but he's still a brute."

Deftly, you lifted your left foot into the left stirrup and leapt up onto the saddle. The sudden weight on Chester's back didn't seem to bother him in the slightest as he stood stock still until you were comfortably seated. Despite the width of his back, you were limber enough to grip his sides with your knees.

"Oooh, well done!" The woman crowed, clapping a few times. "Well then, I should get back to work. But before I do, I'll just tell you to never hesitate to come down to the infirmary. I can tell you've not slept right. I can probably fix that."

As she turned to leave, Doc paused for a second and peered over her shoulder at you. "Oh, one more thing. Chester is gentle and well mannered with people he likes, but he won't be so agreeable with most other people. So no swapping mounts with anyone. Also, his gait is rather clumsy, kind of like mine. He bounces alot when he runs, so hold tight!"

And with that, the tall Squad Leader was striding away towards the castle, her limp still visible from a distance. You shook your head slightly in disbelief.

_What a strange woman... Today's shaping up to be really strenuous... and she said she can help me get back to sleep? I should go see her sometime... But, may as well see what Chester can do for now._

Tapping your heel softly into his haunches, the brutish horse immediately swung his head in the direction of the gates where the rest of your squad was gathering. Chester began walking towards the group, and you noticed his strides were almost comically similar to Doc's.

_Well, except he doesn't limp like her at least. That's a relief!_

As you approached the mounted trainees, a few of them turned to gawk at you. Eyes bugged and jaws hung open in shock as you reined Chester in next to Christa and Ymir. At the front of the gathering, Erd and Gunther watched you with raised eyebrows while Petra was beaming at you. She flashed you a discreet thumbs up.

"Fucking hell, _____, you were told you pick a horse not a mountain!" Reiner's voice boomed out, and you grinned sheepishly at him.

"The horse almost looks like **you** , Braun!" Ymir snickered at him before turning to you. "Are you sure that thing isn't gonna eat you? It looks hungry, _____."

You laughed at Ymir's snide remarks, a truly happy sound. It felt refreshing to actually find something to laugh about, considering how bleak and glum everything had seemed lately.

Jean, sat astride a black gelding at the head of the group turned slightly in his saddle to see what the fuss was about. Your eyes caught his amber ones widening in disbelief as he drank in the sight of Chester. He glanced up and held your gaze momentarily, his expression suddenly unreadable before turning back to face the gates. You could feel the smile on your face dissolving as hastily as it had arrived.

_"It's your fault, _____..."_

"Alright cadets, that's enough horsing around." A few people groaned at Erd's pun. "Everyone's here now? Good. We're going on saddle patrol. Today we'll be showing you the patrol routes and getting you all used to riding, since you spend alot of time on expeditions in the saddle. Everyone follow myself, Gunther, Auruo and Petra."

And with that, the four elite soldiers dug their heels into the flanks of their mounts, leading the group across the draw bridge at a leisurely trot.


	13. Fatigue

The air was brimming with the scent of nature, the aroma of pine trees and wild flowers mingling with the earthy smell of horses and leather. Bright afternoon sunlight beamed between lazily scudding clouds. The landscape was dappled with gently drifting shadows coasting along a casual breeze. Inhaling deeply, you cast your tired eyes across the open plains and fields, the expansive forests and sloping hills. 

For the first time in so long, you felt close to freedom. Drinking in the sights before you made your aching heart soar.

_Man, how I wish I had an easel and some paints back in my room at the castle, it feels like I could paint this scene forever... Goddamnit Marco, if only you could see this. This isn't right. You should still be here with us._

You rubbed indignantly at your sore eyes with your sleeve as they prickled threateningly. Crying during training wasn't exactly an appealing pastime.

_Especially with Jean here, and how he's been acting..._

Your heart throbbed in protest, a dull pain that permeated your chest in waves. Thoughts of Marco and Jean seemed infallible in their ability to cause you heartache and longing.

The meandering procession of horses came to a halt up ahead, and you gently tugged on Chester's reins for him to stand still. The four elite soldiers leading the group had their horses turn so they could face the cadets.

"Alright, listen up you lot!" Auruo called out, a sneer on his features. "Today, we're gonna do the basics. We've covered walking, now you brats gotta keep up through trotting, cantering and galloping. We have to be fast to escape titans, so you better be competent at this!"

Petra shot Auruo an unimpressed look while Erd and Gunther shook their heads slightly.

"Don't worry about being perfect at riding just yet, cadets." Petra took over, smiling as she spoke. "You've had enough practice to prepare you during your trainee days, so up until the expedition we'll be honing your riding abilities as best we can."

With that, Auruo sent Petra an indignant glance as the four of them swung their horses around and began trotting off into the open plains. The cadet group gradually followed as each trainee urged their horses to trot.

Legs shaking feebly with fatigue, you nudged Chester's flanks with your heels and he followed suit, setting himself into a steady trot. His massive frame jolted and bounced slightly as he moved, and despite your best efforts to match your body rhythm to his, it was still too erratic. Deflated, you allowed yourself to be jiggled around limply as Chester's massive legs carried you steadily to the center of the group.

You received a fair few curious glances as Chester casually passed some of the other cadets,  raised eyebrows and lingering gazes at your mount's massive bulk. Somewhere behind you, Reiner was chuckling.

_Shit, it's not my fault that his legs are so long... his trotting covers so much more ground than the other horses. I can kinda see why he's so efficient for Doc, but I also see what she meant about his funny gait._

Just up ahead, Jean had his back turned to you. Wistfully your gaze trailed across his figure, following the familiar arches of his shoulders and slope of his neck. Watching him through your heavily lidded eyes, part of you hoped he would turn around. Hold your gaze. Smile at you. Caress your wounded hands. Assure you that everything was going to get better...

Petra turned in her saddle and caught your eye, beaming brightly at you. You attempted to return the gesture, but what was supposed to be a smile became a grimace as you were continuously jostled in your saddle.

Seemingly concerned, Petra slowed her horse, leaving the front of the procession to fall in next to you. Your vision followed her as she approached and positioned her horse beside yours. Once she had matched her mount's pace to Chester's, Petra turned her attention back to you.

"How are you holding up today, _____? Did you get any sleep after I left you this morning?" She asked in a low voice, brow slightly furrowed.

"Ah, a little." You lied quietly, avoiding her eye contact.

You heard Petra sigh audibly, and turned your head gradually to regard her from the corner of your eye.

"You don't need to lie to me, you know. I can tell you didn't get any more sleep. I'm wondering if we should take you to see Doc..."

You perked up at the sound of the mysterious woman's name, remembering what she had told you earlier.

"Hey yeah, Petra, Doc said that she can help me sleep better if I go see her. Is that true?"

Petra nodded reassuringly, ginger hair bobbing in the breeze.

"Of course she can help you, _____! Doc is a genius in her field. I'm positive she'll find a way to get you sleeping again." Petra smiled warmly as she spoke. "Although, I am starting to wonder if it would have been safer for you to be excused from training today..."

Sighing in relief, you smiled gratefully at the petite woman beside you before returning your tired gaze to the vast scenery spread out before you. Grudgingly you fought against your drooping eyelids as you attempted to admire your surroundings.

_Gotta stay awake... I can't miss any of this. Next time I'm out in the open like this will probably be the damned expedition. Just gotta focus... only a couple of hours to go. Then I can... visit... Doc..._

You jerked violently in your saddle, bringing you back from the verge of drifting off. Startled, Petra stared at you.

"_____, are you falling asleep!? No, no, come on! You have to stay awake alright? Keep talking to me."

Grunting in response, you slowly shifted your eyes back to Petra's concerned face. Her horse still trotted alongside yours, it's legs having to move slightly faster than Chester's.

"Tell me, _____, how did you convince Doc to let you ride Chester?"

Confused, you furrowed your brow. "Convinced...?" You mumbled, voice slurring. "Naw, I didn't convince her... Doc offered. Dunno why."

"Really? Doc offered for a newcomer to ride Chester?" Petra whispered, eyes widening in astonishment. "You must have really impressed her. That's incredible, _____!"

Blearily you blinked at Petra as she spoke, mind working sluggishly to process her words. Your thoughts were growing hazier, vision blurring and strained muscles relaxing. Your bandaged fingers trembled around the reins they held.

"_____?" She sounded so distant. "..._____? Focus! You have to stay awake."

From the front of the procession, Erd's voice rang out like an echo. "Alright cadets, it's time to pick up the pace. All of you, shift into a canter now!"

You were detachedly aware of the horses around you speeding up. They began to overtake you in groups, swift steeds thundering past as you lagged behind. You could vaguely hear Petra calling to you, but could no longer make sense of her words.

You felt warm, calm. Your mind was peacefully becoming blank.

Then, Chester began to move faster out of instinct. Through rigorous training and perilous expeditions, the giant horse had become accustomed to maintaining his position in the group.

With or without direction from his rider.

Chester's powerful legs propelled him forwards into a canter, massive hooves tearing up grass and dirt as he eagerly gained velocity. 

Petra's voice screamed out distantly, echoing through your mind. Your feet slipped from their stirrups as you feebly attempted to stand in them. The dull ache of your body colliding heavily against Chester's spine. Exhausted fingers relinquished their grip on the leather reins. The world spun, a haze of flashing blue sky and luminous green land before fading into nothing.

You were already unconscious before you hit the ground.

 

Jean filled his lungs slowly, savoring the cool air. The fresh scent and caressing breeze set him into a state of ease, calming his troubled mind and soothing his aching heart. His deep whiskey eyes drank in his surroundings leisurely, admiring how beautiful the world could seem with the walls distant.

_Damn, it would be great if we came out here more often. Marco, buddy, you'd love this place. If you were still here, you, _____ and I could relax like old times..._

Jean grit his teeth in frustration. He knew it was pointless to dwell and wish like that, but there were times he couldn't stop himself.

Times like today.

He tried to fight the urge to return to his recent habit of brooding, but to no avail. His sulking and fretting had more or less become a part of every day life at that point.

_I've been such a grouchy shit lately, huh Marco? If you were here, you'd laugh at me and tell me that my face will stick in this frown, right? Hell, you'd lecture me for more than that... You would call me a coward. You'd probably ask me where my perpetual honesty and cocky attitude have gone, right?  Ask me what the fuck is wrong with me? And I know..._

Jean swallowed thickly, jaw clenching uncomfortably.

_I know that you would give me Hell for how I've been acting toward _____._

Muttering bitterly to himself, Jean absently heard the Special Ops squad order the group to start trotting. As the horses around him began to pick up speed, Jean urged his own mount into a steady pace.

After just a few short moments of trotting, Jean noticed one of the senior soldiers twisting around in her saddle, looking back at something. Or someone. Her features were spread in a wide smile. Before he could follow the woman's gaze, Petra slowed her horse to break formation.

Adjusting his grip on the reins of steadily trotting steed, Jean shifted slightly in his saddle to observe Petra falling back. Curiously, his eyes followed her as she lined up next to _____, a few meters behind himself.

As Jean's gaze fell to _____, he felt his heart painfully swell with longing. A huge part of him wished to be the one riding beside her, to talk to her and give her comfort. The other part of him was too apprehensive, choked up with the fear of possible rejection.

_My own selfishness._

_____ wasn't looking his way, her attention focused instead on Petra as she approached. Jean's amber eyes roamed carefully across her face, taking note of her condition.

 

_Pale, drawn skin... Bruised, pouchy eyes... Cracked lips.... Messy hair... Damn, she's looking worse by the day, but why?_

 

"How are you holding up today, _____? Did you get any sleep after I left you this morning?"  Jean heard the older woman murmur to _____, keeping her voice fairly low.

"Ah, a little." _____ responded quietly, but her voice cracked with what sounded like exhaustion. Jean's brows furrowed in concern.

 

"You don't need to lie to me, you know. I can tell you didn't get any more sleep. I'm wondering if we should take you to see Doc..."

_So she hasn't been sleeping well? Why the fuck not? She seemed to be doing just fine lately, all cozy with Ymir and Sasha and Bertholdt, and now Petra too... Is what happened to Marco stopping her from sleeping now? I should be the one to comfort her in his place, but..._

Jean watched the two women speak, his heart heavy.

_I don't know if I can._

Sighing, Jean faced forwards once more, focusing his eyes on the riders ahead of him. He gripped his reins tightly as he internally grappled with his own conscience.

_Would we both be safer, better off apart... Or should I risk fucking everything up by getting close to her again?_

 

The minutes dragged on as Jean brooded, unfocused eyes staring blankly at the charcoal neck of his steed. The cool breeze blew his copper hair across his sunbathed neck, but he paid no attention until a voice called out.

"Alright cadets, it's time to pick up the pace. All of you, shift into a canter now!"

Jean raised his head, observing the other trainees as they spurred their mounts. Following suit, he tapped his heels into the flanks of his gelding and began to canter. Raising himself in the stirrups with each roll of his horse's spine, Jean used his toned legs to steady himself and ride smoothly through the procession. It felt so easy, so natural. As if the more speed he gained, the more distance he put between himself and his problems.

"_____!" A woman screamed out from somewhere to the back of the group. Jean snapped himself around in his saddle, eyes frantically searching for the source of the cry.

The massive grey horse that _____ had been riding was turning around to run in the opposite direction, back the way the group had come.

He had no rider.

Clenching his jaw tightly, eyes wide, Jean yanked hard on his horse's reins, spinning the gelding to chase after Chester. Around him, a few of the other cadets were following suit.

As Jean cantered, he watched the huge mount slow to a halt, dipping it's head down to a prone figure in the grass. Petra was kneeling there too.

The figures of Erd and Gunther thundered past Jean in a blur, their horses galloping swiftly toward the scene.

"Petra! What's going on?" Erd yelled out as he reined in his horse beside Chester, leaping down from the saddle deftly. Jean finally approached as Gunther dismounted.

As Jean swung his leg over to get down from his horse, he was stopped by Gunther. "Hold on, cadet. We don't need people crowding around, especially if the girl is injured. That goes for the rest of you too." Gunther raised his voice slightly as he eyed the rest of the cadets surrounding the group.

Dejected, Jean stayed atop his horse, amber eyes cast down upon the figure in the grass. _____ lay there on her back, splayed out against the vibrant green ground beneath her.  Her emerald Survey Corps cloak pooled out like a halo around her head. She looked so peaceful, bruised eyelids shut gently, thick dark lashes fluttering against her cheeks. Cracked, plump lips parted slightly, her breathing shallow.

_She looks so sad, yet so beautiful._

_____'s huge horse seemed reluctant to move away from her, his dark nose nuzzling against her arm as he nickered quietly. Despite his size, he behaviour was surprisingly gentle.

"Come on you lot, keep training!" Auruo shouted from the head of the group, eliciting disgruntled muttering from a few of the trainees. Sasha, Ymir and Mikasa lingered as the others departed, their mounts standing just a few feet away from where _____ lay. Jean could feel their eyes upon him, probably trying to predict what he would do next.

Erd got to his feet, turning to regard the stragglers. "She's alright, just took a tumble is all. Petra says she's not been sleeping, so it looks like exhaustion. Nothing serious. Now you four, get back to riding. Gunther and I will be there soon." Erd turned back to Petra. "Would you mind taking _____ and Chester back to headquarters, Petra? I think Doc is going to want to hear all about this."

With that, Erd and Gunther lifted _____ onto the saddle on Chester's back, gently draping her torso across his broad shoulders and neck. They secured her feet into the stirrups and handed the reins up to Petra, who had leapt back up onto her own mount.

"Petra, could I come with you?" Jean asked, mouth dry with anxiety. 

From somewhere to Jean's right, he heard Ymir let out a derisive snort. He shot her a venomous glare, but she only stared back with a harsh, deadpan expression.

Petra turned to Jean, shaking her head slightly. "Sorry, but you should continue your training. _____ will be fine with me, I'll make sure to bring her straight to Doc."

The ginger haired woman turned her horse and began riding back to the castle at a gentle walking pace, Chester following obediently behind with his precious cargo. 

 

Jean watched them leave, anger and guilt twisting his guts.


	14. Hysteria

The resonating clatter of hooves striking the wooden drawbridge echoed through the cavernous moat below. The curious soldiers manning the wall surrounding the castle leered down at the strange procession, muttering to one another as they observed. A petite blonde woman riding a chestnut mare was leading the Doc's notorious giant gelding. Lying prone across the horse's brawny back was a young woman, her face nestled in the base of his neck. The small group paused just inside the gates.

Petra, craning her neck, flashed a sweet smile at the guards before dismounting to check on Chester and _____. One large russet eye framed with thick lashes regarded Petra calmly as she approached, apparently unperturbed by her presence. She scratched at his neck affectionately as she inspected his precious cargo. 

_____ was still out cold. Her slender fingers hung limply across Chester's shoulders, her feet still safely in their stirrups. Eyelids, so bruised against her pallid face, were closed so peacefully. It was almost as if she was finally shutting out the world for a while.

_Poor girl, she really needs a long rest._

"Hey, Petra?" A deep voice spoke softly from behind her.

Petra jumped, spinning around to stare right at the tall man's waist.

"Oh Mike!" She giggled, peering up at the towering soldier's bearded face. "You know, you're surprisingly soft-footed for someone of your stature!"

Mike flashed her a wry grin before turning his attention to the two horses. When his eyes fell upon _____, he gave a short sniff.

"Don't tell me Chester bucked that poor girl off."

"Oh no, it's not like that!" Petra threw up her petite hands, patting the air frantically. "Her name is _____, she's one of the new recruits. Doc let her take Chester for this afternoon's saddle training, but..." She trailed off, her face dropping sadly along with her hands. "She's not been sleeping right since she got here, truthfully. Her room is next to mine, and I've listened to her crying out in the night. I guess she got so exhausted that she couldn't endure it when we started the canter drill."

Mike gave an exasperated sigh, rubbing slowly at his beard with his thick fingers. "Well, I would usually recommend you take her to Doc. However, she's not here."

Petra's eyes widened in confusion. "Not here?! But she was here just before we left."

Mike nodded ruefully, his deep brown eyes locking onto the unconscious girl sympathetically. "She apparently had something urgent that required her attention. Asked me and Moblit to watch the infirmary for her."

Petra turned to grasp the reins of the two mounts, holding one in each hand. "Well Mike, since you and Moblit are looking after the infirmary, you don't suppose you could take _____ there? I was planning to carry her myself, but she's taller than me so it would be difficult." Petra smiled sheepishly.

Nodding solemnly, the blond giant strode over to where Chester waited obediently behind Petra. Carefully, Mike slipped his arms under the unconscious girl, scooping her out of the saddle and into his arms with surprising gentleness. Chester, apparently disgruntled about his charge being taken away from him, stamped his hoof and snorted irritably at Mike.

Smiling lopsidedly at the volatile gelding, Mike turned his attention back to Petra. "You sure you're alright settling him back into his stable? Seems a bit grouchy today."

Petra beamed a winning smile at Mike, clutching the sets of reins tightly. "Leave it to me, Mike! You and Moblit take care of _____, okay? I'll be there to visit her later!"

Mike watched Petra as she turned to lead the horses away to the stables before glancing down at the young soldier in his arms. Her eyelashes were fluttering slightly over bruised, discolored lids. Her slightly parted lips were chapped and dry, drawing long and silent breaths between her teeth. Her hair was disheveled, stray locks draped across her face and neck. An obnoxious blade of grass poked up from beneath her collar, presumably from when she fell off Chester's back.

Overall, she looked a mess.

"Let's get you to an infirmary bed. You really do look like you need the sleep." Mike murmured to the unconscious girl as he began striding towards the looming castle, _____'s limp form cradled securely against his frame.

 

 

_A small painting easel, precariously held together by old nails and propped up by the main room window of a quaint house._

_An old shirt, paint stained and crumpling yet familiar and well loved._

_Roses, as deep and crimson as fresh blood shimmering with crystalline dew drops._

_Crowds of people, faces taut and pallid. Eyes bugging from their slack-jawed faces, bodies quivering in sheer horror._

_Despairing screams, trickles of sanguine fluids becoming speeding streams cascading down the cobble streets and down oppressively dark drains._

_Blood, blood as red as roses._

_Fleeing, panicking, crying out for mother and father. Where did they go? Why didn't they come back for me?_

_I can't breathe, daddy help me I can't breathe where did you go? Mother?_

_An old tree, gnarled and withered._

_I can't breathe. It's so dark here, did I go blind somehow? I can't remember why I'm here, how did I get down here?_

_A boyish smile, inky hair in a messy parted mop, wide chocolate eyes overflowing with concern, and freckles..._

_Great plumes of smoke rising lazily into the crimson, darkening sky, embers dying in silence upon the breeze. They almost resemble the towers that once stood there, now lying in ruins beneath their cloud impostors._

_Windows, shattered and strewn across the pavement, discarded iridescent fragments reflecting the ominous light. Shards crunch and crackle beneath thick leather boots._

_Freckles... freckles... where has the boy with freckles gone?_

_A young soldier. Tall, willowy and tense, his crisp uniform marred with filth and bloodstains. His dark hair is parted down the middle tidily, no longer the scruffy, disheveled mop. He looks so unhappy, Marco please tell me what's wrong? Your eyes seem too bitter, too cold..._

_"You promised to never leave me behind, _____. We promised each other."_

_I never left you Marco, you were stolen from me, and... Jean... Jean why did you leave? You promised we would get through this together, right?_

_Copper hair, golden eyes sunken into dark sockets, a white cloth tied across his tired pallid  face. Jean! Jean please, speak to me, I don't understa-_

_"It's your fault Marco died, _____."_

_Impending void, swirling and enveloping. I'm falling, falling backwards from the old tree, gnarled and withered. A crimson apple, just out of reach.._

_Air exploding from abused lungs as icy water swallows me whole..._

_Swimming through blackness. Floating. Sinking. Drifting along through the current. No more need to cry out, no need to breathe, no point in fighting any longer. It's so peaceful here. I remember this feeling so vividly. Why did I ever leave it behind...?_

_Mother, Father, Marco, Jean..._

_Why did I leave this peaceful darkness for a place where everyone I know goes away in the end...?_

Slowly, your bruised lids opened to be greeted by the same swirling black abyss. Blinking painfully, your eyes swivelled around sluggishly as they attempted to find something to focus on in the darkness.

_Am I... still asleep?_

Your body felt incredibly heavy as you urged your limbs to move. Agonizingly slow, you heaved yourself into a sitting position, rubbing at your eyes with your stiff fingers.

_Huh...? My bandages?_

Squinting, your peered down at your hands. In the gloom you could just discern that your bandages were missing. However, you had no recollection of removing them yourself. The back of your head throbbed dully, and you eased your fingers through your hair until you located a hard lump. It twanged in protest from being touched, causing you to flinch slightly.

Perplexed, you blinked blearily in an attempt to wake up further as you surveyed your dim surroundings. 

You appeared to be sitting in a cramped, plain bed. Crisp white sheets were drawn up over your form, and a meagre pillow lay behind you. Your uniform jacket and cloak were hung neatly over a crude chair near the head of the cot. You were situated in the middle of a long room, the walls lined with beds similar to yours. Each individual bed had a pale curtain drawn partially around it, the fabric looming in the darkness like rows of stoic ghosts. Near the door, a huge ornate-looking desk was situated against the wall, surrounded by towering shelves and cabinets. The expansive window at the end of the room was hidden by thick, dark drapes, making it impossible to estimate the time of day.

_Is this the infirmary...? Where's Doc?_

For a few minutes, you sat alone in the silence. Casting off the groggy coating from your waking mind as the memories eased back to you.

_Did I... fall from Chester during training!? In front of everyone! .... In front of **Jean**!?_

With a load groan, you clapped your hands across your face.

_I can't even stay on a horse, can't even **stay awake** long enough to find out what the fuck is wrong with Jean. What the fuck is wrong with me? The way he's treating me, the nightmares, the blame, the guilt, this crippling fucking loneliness._

Hot, angry tears boiled out from your eyes, spilling down your cheeks to cascade off your knuckles. Your fingers gripped tighter against your face, as if you could grasp and wrench the negative thoughts out of your mind.

_If Marco were here, he would know what to do, what to say... If Marco were here, none of this would be happening, would it? Jean would still be his arrogant cocky bastard self, I wouldn't have fallen so far, the three of us could be happy again... and we would all be inside wall fucking Sina right now, wouldn't we? Would we...? I ranked 11, after all... Shit. I would be in the Garrison, but knowing he was alive and safe... it would be all worth it, wouldn't it?_

Hunching further forwards until your forehead rested on your knees, breath coming in ragged gasps, a low sob escaped from your parched lips. You grit your teeth in frustration against the tears, rage and indignation rising in you like poisonous bile.

_I'm so fucking **sick** of crying and feeling sorry for myself. I'm sick of feeling alone, and sick of being left in the dark. I'm **over** being ignored and cast off when I'm apparently inconvenient. I've been civil, haven't I? I've given Jean space, I've given him time to mope and gripe about whatever the **Hell** it is that's bugging him. I've been kind, I've been understanding, and what do I get in return? Heartbreak. Maybe I was a fool to ever entertain any thoughts of us being... being what though? Together? Ugh..._

Angrily wiping at your face with your hands, you straightened up and glared at the wall before you in defiance. 

_I'm done with this. **So** fucking done. There's only so much patience a girl can have when our hearts and lives are on the line. Tomorrow is Ymir's plan, after all... and I guess if it doesn't work, that'll be it. It'll be over. I'm not going to be strung along like this. I won't allow myself to be a victim._

Swinging your legs over the bed, you grabbed your jacket and cloak and marched stiffly towards the door. You burrowed your hand into the chest pocket as you strode, assuring yourself that Marco's note was still safe.

_If Jean won't talk to me tomorrow, then I should just stop trying. After all, I can't force him to do jack shit. If he ever gets his act together and decides to quit ignoring me, then we'll just have to see how forgiving I am._

Grasping your uniform tightly in one hand, you twisted the door handle with the other and rushed out of the gloomy infirmary into the brightly lit corridor-

**_WHAM!_ **

Stumbling backwards, you clung to the door-frame as you reeled in fright from the collision.

"Oh geez, I am _so_ sorry! Are you alright!?"

You squinted blearily up at the frantic figure as your eyes adjusted to the light, heart hammering from the shock. 

The man bent slightly to grip your arm, steadying you against falling. He had soft looking sandy brown hair, the parted fringe framing his worried face. He was of average build, and only slightly taller than yourself. His ochre eyes brimmed with concern as he pulled you to stand upright, jostling the large lantern he carried precariously.

Swaying a little, you mumbled "Yeah, I'm okay. My fault."

The man's eyes softened as he released your arm. "Not your fault at all, I was on my way in here myself. So I'd say it was more or less coincidence." His voice was soft, reassuring. You couldn't help but relax a little.

"Oh, how rude of me to not introduce myself. My name is Moblit Berner, I'm the assistant and second in command to Squad Leader Hanji of the research division. Just call me Moblit. You're _____, correct?"

You nodded slowly in confirmation, eyeing Moblit curiously as he spoke.

"Ah good, I was concerned that I may have misheard your name from Mike. He was in a bit of a rush when he brought you here."

"Mike...?" You questioned, brows furrowed.

Moblit motioned for you to walk back into the infirmary, and you obliged. Slowly wandering back to the disheveled bed, you watched Moblit light the wall sconces in silence until the entire room was flooded in a warm glow. Fiddling idly with the jacket in your arms, you waited patiently until Moblit sat at the chair beside your bed.

Settling into the creaking wooden seat with a drawn out sigh, he turned to you with a tired smile. 

"Right, so where was I? Ah, yes. Mike is one of the Survey Corps' squad leaders. He and I have been charged with the care-taking of the infirmary during Doc's presumably short absence-"

"Wait, Doc's not here!?" You blurted out, unable to contain your rude interruption. "But I needed to see her."

Moblit listened to your outburst in goodnatured silence, nodding slightly as you spoke. "Yes, Petra came running by earlier and mentioned something about sleep deprivation, correct?"

"Ah, mhmm..." Awkwardly you ran your fingers through your hair. "When I spoke to Doc this morning, she asked me to come see her about it. She said that she had something that could help."

Chuckling goodnaturedly, Moblit eased out of his chair and strode over to the desk near the doorway. As he rummaged through the cabinets, he called out to you. "By the way, there's no need to feel any anxiety or embarrassment. Both myself and Mike have held down the fort here for Doc plenty of times in the past, and she's given us both fairly extensive medical training. Bearing that in mind, I'm pretty sure that I can figure out what it was she would have recommended for you."

Silently, you sat and observed Moblit as he searched, the clinks and clatters of vials, jars, pots and other containers disturbingly loud in the silent room. Finally, Moblit let out a triumphant "Ahh!" as he backed away from the huge cabinets, a small object in his hand.

"This one looks about right." He murmured as he sat back down on the chair beside your bed, inspecting the small vial in his hand. The glass was a deep murky brown, making it impossible to tell the color of the veiled liquid within. A tiny, crumpled tag hung from the lid by a short length of string, the writing upon it cramped and scrawled. 

Nervously staring at the vial, you swallowed thickly.

_What the Hell is in that...?_

"Yes, this is definitely the right one." Moblit nodded happily, turning his attention to you. "Alright, so don't take this until you're getting in to bed. Pour roughly half of the vial into a tall glass of water, and drink the whole glass. You may want to drink it fairly quickly, as the taste could be rather strange. Also, it might be a good idea to ask Petra to wake you in the morning, as you probably won't awaken on your own."

You cautiously took the vial from Moblit's outstretched hand, turning it over in your fingers as you peered at it. You attempted in vain to read the label, but it was similar to an incomprehensible code.

_How in the Hell did Moblit manage to tell this bottle from the rest of them...?_

"Well, that should be everything. Any questions?" Moblit asked kindly, flashing a small smile.

"Ah, uh just one," You murmured sheepishly. "There were bandages on my hands...?"

"Ah yes. When Mike brought you in here, he noticed those and decided to check if you were wounded. However, he decided that any cuts you had previously were healed sufficiently, and no longer needed bandaging."

Your gaze fell back to your hands, eyes travelling over your fingers and palms. Sure enough, the angry cuts and grazes had faded to pink scars and grooves. 

_Damn, I really messed up my hands huh..._

"Anyway _____, you should head to bed and drink that medicine. It will more or less knock you out, so make sure you only drink it once you're prepared to sleep. Oh, and you must be hungry, so just go straight back to your room. I'll find Petra and ask her to bring you something to eat on her way back, since her room is next to yours." Moblit rose from the chair as he spoke, turning on his heel towards the door. "I'm sorry to cut this short, but I must return to my squad leader before she destroys the castle with her experiments."

Eyes widening at his statement, you couldn't help but wonder if Squad Leader Hanji was really as eccentric as that.

Clutching the vial securely in your hands, you threw your jacket over one shoulder and exited the infirmary with Moblit.

 

 

"Now, are you _sure_ you don't need anything else?" Petra fussed, her golden eyes brimming with concern.

You gave the senior soldier a warm, tired smile as you collapsed onto your bed.  "I'm sure, Petra. Thankyou. You've done so much for me the past few days..."

The ginger haired woman returned your smile with enthusiasm. "You're very welcome, _____. What kind of army would we be if we didn't assist each other, anyway? Solidarity is key, after all."

Nodding your agreement, you pulled yourself into a sitting position and began wolfing down the stew and bread Petra had brought for you. It was rather bland, with questionable chunks floating around, but in your ravenous state you couldn't care less. Any food was heavenly at that point.

Petra watched you eat for a few short moments with a strangely maternal warmth to her eyes. "Well then, I'll come wake you in the morning. Remember to only mix half of the vial into your water, alright?" She set down a glass of water on the desk before turning to reach for the door handle.

"Thanks Petra," You said between mouthfuls of bread. "I'll make sure to drink it."

Petra nodded to you and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

_Incredible how such a compassionate, sweet woman can also be an expert titan slayer. Petra sure is amazing._

Stuffing the last of the bread into your mouth, you rose slowly to your feet and carried the empty bowl over to your desk. Sat upon the chipped wooden surface, the tiny vial waited silently next to the glass of water. Placing your bowl down, you grabbed the vial and popped the lid.

The scent that wafted to your nose was difficult to describe.

It was pungent, certainly. There was an earthy undertone, with a sharp pang of plant matter. It stung at your nose slightly as you sniffed deeply, detecting a distinctly floral smell in the mix, along with a trace of something... bitter? Eyeing the vial curiously, you tipped it carefully into the glass of water, measuring out half of the concoction.

The mixture that spilled from the vial to coalesce with the water was thick, almost syrupy. The color was nearly completely translucent, save for a dark amber hue that caught the candlelight. You stared at it with a feeling of skepticism.

_This stuff looks like it's gonna taste like shit and leaves... I really hope it works._

Still eyeing the mixture as it combined with the water, you lifted the glass to your lips.

_Well, here goes nothing!_

Tilting your head back, you poured the mysterious concoction down your throat, attempting to get it down without tasting it. Your eyes watered with the effort, breathing shallow through your nose as you swallowed without breaking away. Finally, you had consumed all of the medicine, and with the final gulp you gasped for air as you heavily set the empty glass down. Panting, you could feel the faint burning in your mouth and throat, a bitter flavor stinging your tongue.

Gagging a little, you blew out the candles on your desk before staggering towards your bed like a drunken oaf in the gloom. 

Nose still scrunched up against the deplorable taste, you burrowed deep into the blankets on your bed. It lacked the familiarity of your old barracks cot, but damn it felt infinitely better than the cold strange bed of the infirmary.

_Man, I really hope this stuff works... Moblit and Doc both seemed sure it would help, so we'll see._

And so, staring at the dark ceiling, you waited.

 

 

 

"_____."

You could feel yourself being shaken, causing a low groan to escape your lips.

"_____, come on wake up now!"

"Five... minutes... Sasha..." You mumbled, flipping onto your side and burying your face into the warm blankets. Your mind was so hazy, so comfortable in it's blank darkness. There might have been a dream, but it was fragmented, distorted, lost far away in the mist of your subconsciousness.

_Did I... even dream at all?_

"_____, come on, we're gonna be late for breakfast at this rate!"

Tediously, you forced your eyelids open, squinting and blinking rapidly at the light painfully assaulting your eyeballs. Uttering another groan, you threw your hands sleepily across your eyes, defending them from the sun.

You could hear quiet chuckling somewhere in front of you, soft and feminine.

"Seriously, do you want me to _drag_ you out of bed!? Cause I'll do it!"

Grumbling dejectedly, you pushed yourself up onto your forearms, blinking blearily to clear your fuzzy vision. As the haze dissipated and your mental clarity returned, you could make out the grinning face of Petra beaming down at you. 

"Morning, sunshine!" She giggled, pushing stray ginger locks behind her ears as she stooped down to regard you with cheerful eyes. "Looks like Doc's crazy little potion worked on you, it took forever to wake you up!"

You could only grunt in response, mind still clumsy with overhanging sleep.

Sensing your persistent reluctance to wake up, Petra grabbed the hem of your duvet and whipped it off of you. You let out a pitiful cry as you collapsed back onto the bed, curling up against the sudden rush of cold air.

"_____, I swear, I will drag you out of that bed if you don't get up right now! I for one would like to eat this morning!" Petra's threats were real, yet held a warm mirth.

"Alright alright, _mum_." You grinned, stressing the last word with a cheeky tone.

"Great!" Your vision became black again as items of clothing were flung unceremoniously in your face. "Get dressed quickly, I'll wait outside your room for you!"

Still giggling to herself mischievously, Petra exited the room, her boots clicking musically against the wooden floor.

_Damn that woman is chirpy in the morning._

 

Groaning as you pulled the clothes off of your face, you slowly dressed, well rested for the first time in what felt like eternity.

 

 

"So as you can see here, cadets, this long range scouting formation is perfect for the needs of the Survey Corps. This allows us to split in to small groups, generally groups of three with at least one senior soldier. This way we can easily avoid swarms of titans through the use of color-coded flares, or take out single units swiftly and effectively."

Squad Leader Ness' voice continued to drone on, explaining the effectiveness of Commander Smith's plan. You leaned heavily against your desk, Sasha chewing on the end of her quill pen to your right. To your left, Ymir appeared to be drifting off to sleep, Christa prodding her shoulder occasionally to wake her. You had copied down most of the formation theory so far, yet your mind continued to wander to a certain figure somewhere a few seats behind you.

_I wonder how Jean will react today..._

You flexed your fingers in an attempt to fight off the clammy feeling. All morning, through breakfast and the theory lesson, you had been plagued by nervousness. You could feel the afternoon's confrontation swiftly approaching, yet despite your need for clarity, cold feet were creeping in.

_Oh God, is there a chance that I'll fuck things up further if I force him like this?_

Ness was pacing in front of the huge cork-board, pointing to specific points of the diagram hanging there as he explained the formation in further detail. You knew you should be paying more attention, yet you couldn't fight off the looming concern.

_No, surely things couldn't get any worse than this just by me trying to clear the air... right...? I mean, he promised me after all... he made me trust him... it's the least I deserve, surely he'll see that... I hope he'll see that. Oh fuck, Marco, is this really wise?_

"Alright, are there any questions pertaining to the formation? We have to break for lunch soon, so be fast." Ness called out to the room of cadets. Armin, diligent as ever, raised his hand.

_I can't back out now, no way. Ymir's gone through alot of effort to set this up, and my heart can't take this silence anymore. It's gotta happen today._

As you continued your internal struggles, time ticked over. You missed Armin's questions, and more importantly, Ness' answers.

"Alright, listen up guys!" His booming voice cut through your reverie like a knife, shocking you to attention. "That's all we have time for today, make sure you memorize the formation layout and the flare system. There won't be much chance to go over the expedition plans  until closer to the time, so no slacking! Dismissed."

A collective chorus of groaning cadets and creaking furniture echoed through the room as everyone lurched to their feet. Grabbing your quill-pen and parchment, you followed suit, filing out behind Sasha into the blinding sunlight.

"Ahh, finally it's lunchtime!" Sasha crowed happily, stretching her arms up high as she walked with a bounce in her step. You squinted at the bright sky, eyes adjusting painfully. All around you, cadets were meandering casually towards the castle dining hall. They chattered happily, almost seeming to not have a care in the world.

When you didn't respond, Sasha spun around to face you, stopping you in your tracks. Her brow was furrowed, her eyes concerned. 

"_____, are you really okay? At breakfast you said you were sleeping better, but you've barely spoken all day."

Before you could answer, a hand clapped upon your shoulder, causing you to jolt in fright.

"Not getting cold feet now, are we _____?" A voice purred in your ear.

You swiftly ducked away from Ymir, spinning around to see her grinning like a cat, Christa smiling warmly at her side.

"Not really, Ymir," You sighed, relaxing from your scare. "I'm just apprehensive, that's all."

The freckled girl straightened up, eyes softening and her expression becoming more serious. For a silent moment she held your gaze, Sasha and Christa glancing expectantly between the two of you. 

"The sooner you make him realize, the better, _____."

With that, Ymir strode off towards the castle. Christa shot you an apologetic look before trotting off after her taller companion. You and Sasha watched them leave in silence, exchanging a surprised glance before following.

 

 

The sun blazed proudly in the sky above, it's rays sparsely interrupted by meandering clouds. Lush grass bowed and sprung beneath the intruding boots of cadets as the group congregated outside the castle in the fields beyond the drawbridge. A lazy breeze tickled at your face, lifting stray locks of hair as it passed.

You could feel your heart nervously fluttering inside your rib-cage, like a startled bird seeking escape. Shakily, you wiped your palms on your white trousers in an attempt to rid yourself of the persistent clammy sensation.

"Alright cadets, this is far out enough. We'll have enough space here." Erd called out as he and Gunther stopped walking. They had paused beside a lone oak tree, standing vigilant in a sea of green. With a small sigh, Gunther lowered himself to sit cross legged beneath the shade, sharp eyes observing the silent soldiers before him.

Glancing at the faces all around you, everyone else seemed so calm. Nobody appeared burdened by concerns or worries about today's training, each cadet perfectly at ease. Well, except for Jean. His expression was more or less the same as it had been since graduation. Stern, unsmiling. 

Unfamiliar.

Not wanting to risk catching his eye just yet, you turned your attention back to the pair of senior soldiers, heart still racing.

"I need all of you to pair off," Erd continued, leaning backwards against the gnarled oak. "Don't worry about who you choose, I'll call out every five minutes or so for you all to switch partners to keep it interesting. Hop to it."

As Erd finished speaking, there was a buzz of activity as the loosely formed group of cadets began milling around, each person looking for a partner to choose. You caught Ymir's eye as she strode past you, taking note of the surreptitious nod she gave you.

Standing off at the edge of the group as Ymir had instructed you to, you observed.

Almost like a dance, cadets strode confidently towards their previously chosen partners and broke swiftly away from the throng. Reiner winked as he passed, Sasha grinning and giving you a thumbs up as she followed him. Connie looked thoroughly disappointed as she left, you noted. Bertholdt and Armin both showed warm yet apprehensive smiles as they too wandered away across the grass. 

Over to your right at the other end of the group, Jean stood with his arms folded, eyes darting from trainee to trainee. There were moments where he opened his mouth or moved to take a step toward someone, yet they would be snatched away before he uttered a word.

_I wonder if he's realized what's happening yet..._

As Christa and Mikasa approached you, Christa whispered "Good luck, _____!" in her gentle voice, as Mikasa showed you one of her rare, warm smiles. Returning her gesture, you watched them pass you by, turning your attention back to Connie. The short, energetic boy was glancing around frantically between you, Jean and Ymir.

_Probably trying to figure out who's least likely to overpower him... I would be, I think? Or maybe Jean... he's competitive and hot-headed, but I doubt he'd go all out on Connie..._

As if on cue, Connie spun on his heel and made a beeline for Jean. The copper haired soldier's eyes flickered to the shorter man, and his features relaxed, lowering his arms as he began to speak.

"Yo, Conn-"

"Gotcha!"

Ymir's hand enclosed on Connie's collar when he was but a few feet away from Jean, her face cracking into a feral grin. Stunned, you observed as the color drained from Connie's face, mouth agape with what could possibly be a silent scream of terror. As the tall girl began hauling him away by the scruff, Connie's face turned to you, eyes wide with soundless pleas for help.

"Come on Pipsqueak," Ymir grunted as she dragged the struggling trainee. "You're fighting me today!"

You and Jean watched the tragic spectacle in silence, both taken-aback by Ymir's abruptness. Connie's wails of protest faded as he was roughly transported to a distant patch of field.

A silence fell between you and Jean as you turned your gaze to regard him. His amber eyes locked onto yours, drawing your roaming vision in and holding it steady. Jaws clenched, fists steady, bodies coiled tight and ready to spring. Like a deer in the sight of a predator, neither of you moved a muscle, each anticipating the other to initiate. 

_But which of us is truly the prey?_

Swallowing thickly against the blockade in your throat, you deliberately stepped closer to Jean, gradually eliminating the distance until less than ten feet separated you. You held his gaze as the silence stretched on, punctuated by the faint grunts and calls of other trainees across the field. To you, it felt like you and Jean could be the only two people in the world right there, staring each other down in a bubble of tension.

You watched as a tiny bead of sweat formed on his temple, trickling lazily down the contours of his cheek to his jawline. Your hands shook and your heart thundered, and you absently wondered if he could hear it from where he stood.

Deciding that Jean wasn't going to be the instigator, you sighed, shattering the silence and eye contact, the fragile atmosphere dissipating. Slowly, you shrugged out of your uniform jacket and tossed it to the grass, out of the way. Reaching up, your trembling hands tightened the band restraining your hair and pushed aside the stray tresses that threatened to obscure your vision. 

As you steeled your resolve, you hunkered into a fighting stance, flexing your fingers as your held your fists before your face. Inhaling deeply through your nose, you silently willed for your heart to calm and your mind to clear.

Jean watched you in silence, his expression unreadable. 

"_____..."

You flinched slightly at the sound of his voice uttering your name, so quiet and melancholy in the still air.

"I don't want to fight you."

Clenching your teeth until your jaw ached, you narrowed your eyes at him. 

"Too late for that." You hissed, unable to keep your tone neutral. Jean's face crumpled in dismay at your sharp rebuttal.

_Way too fucking late to say that, Jean. You started this fight at graduation._

Before Jean could prepare himself, you lunged.

Springing powerfully from your right foot, you dashed forwards to deliver a low palm thrust to the stunned soldier before you. Jean barely managed to block, letting out a strangled gasp of shock as your hand struck his sleeved forearm. Taking advantage of his confusion, you snapped your fingers down onto the fabric of his sleeve and swung your other hand up. Snatching his arm away from it's defensive block, he was unable to avoid your free hand as it delivered a jab to his abdomen.

As Jean hunched over, wind knocked from him, you attempted to grip both of his forearms as your body dropped to a crouch, leg flicking behind his to bring him to his knees-

Jean's hand, larger and more powerful than your own, wrenched itself free from your grasp to lock around your wrist. His long fingers wrapped around your slender bones, twisting your arm high. You hissed in pain as you were forced to turn with your arm, lest it break. Spinning you to face away from him, Jean forced your arm down behind your back before thrusting you away. 

You stumbled forward a few steps, nursing your twisted arm before whipping around to glare at the tall soldier...

Jean was grinning.

A small yet recognizable smirk had graced his taut features, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw the Jean you knew. The Jean you missed.

The Jean you loved.

You felt a pain in your chest, your erratic heart throbbing pitifully. Gritting your teeth, you steadied yourself into your sparring stance again.

_I can't stop here, he still needs to pay for what he's caused._

Setting your face into a glare, you motioned with one hand for him to bring it on.

_I need him to know what I've been enduring..._

Expression darkening, whatever sliver of a grin Jean had previously vanished. Recklessly discarding his own uniform jacket, he threw it aside before moving to attack you first. 

_...What I've been holding in._

Steeling yourself, you read his intention and ducked, smirking as you swung your body in the correct direction...

A fist connected with your shoulder, clipping the flesh to halt violently against your head. Stars burst behind your eyes and you stumbled, dazed.

"Oh _shit_ , _____! Why the Hell did you dodge the wrong way!?"

Shaking your throbbing head to clear it, you saw Jean approaching you from between the clumps of hair that fell across your face, his hands outstretched.

Vulnerable.

You threw your hands out, jabbing and thrusting at him to distract his attention from your legs. Swinging your right one behind his once more, you succeeded in sweeping into his achilles tendons, knocking him off balance. 

With a yelp, Jean fell backwards heavily against the grass, the air exploding violently from his lungs. 

Not missing a beat, adrenaline pounding through your veins, you threw yourself over to Jean's prone form. You landed forcefully against his stomach, straddling his waist as you pinned his hands against the grass, pushing down upon his wrists with all of your might. His chest heaved as he gasped to regain his lost oxygen, eyelids squeezed shut from the pain.

"_____," he sputtered, "what the fu-"

"No, what the fuck is wrong with _you_!?" You whispered tremulously.

Jean's eyes snapped open at the sound of your voice, so frail and filled with sorrow. 

"__-_____?!"

"Who the _fuck_ are you? You're not the Jean I know..."

You were hunched over his body, toned legs pinning his torso and your hands caging his arms beside him. Your shoulders, once steady with such conviction during the brief fight were now hunched protectively, as if to defend yourself against his words. Your face, shielded by unruly tresses broken free from their confining hairtye, was low and angled away from Jean's. Chin threateningly close to your hammering chest, your expression was obstructed from him, your voice the only traitor to your weakness.

"...Answer me."

"I don't understand, _____," Jean blurted, exasperation creeping into his voice. 

" _Are you that fucking blind, Jean!?_ " You snapped at him, whipping your face around to glare at him, lips curled back into a feral snarl. Tears burned at your eyes, threatening to build and spill like waterfalls of vulnerability.

Mouth hanging open slightly, eyes wide, Jean looked as though you had struck him across the face. Hearing those words that he had spat at you during graduation jarred his resolve.

When no response came, you grit your teeth, unwaveringly staring down at him with your eyes brimming with betrayal.

_I'm so fucking **sick** of crying and feeling sorry for myself. I'm sick of feeling alone, and sick of being left in the dark._

Lip trembling as the silence continued, your mind raged inside it's cage of bone.

_I'm **over** being ignored and cast off when I'm apparently inconvenient. _

_And I'm **through** with staying quiet and acting as if nothing fucking affects me._

"How could you do this to me, Jean!?" You cried out, unable to contain your rage and indignation any longer. "How the fuck could you do this? Three years, Jean, three _fucking_ years of supposedly being best friends, of helping each other and training together. Did none of that mean anything to you!? Was it all some sort of charade?"

Jean listened in stunned silence, muted by your tirade. Your shoulders quivered as the boiling tears began to fall, your voice cracking and failing you as you raged at him.

"Why the _fuck_ would you play with me like this? Am I some kind of toy, some amusement to cast off whenever it suits you? Or is it something else? Because ever since graduation you've been avoiding me, ignoring me, as if I'm some kind of diseased _lunatic_! Why, Jean? Is all of this because Marco is gone now?" Your sobs broke through your words, your voice becoming garbled and interrupted by hiccups, yet you pushed on.

"So what, now that Marco isn't here you don't have to pretend you care about me, is that it? I was just some string along, and now there's no ties right? As if the crippling nightmares weren't enough."

Your voice broke violently as you seethed, angry tears burning trails down your tired skin to cascade down and pepper Jean's shirt. His amber eyes refused to leave your face, wide and staring.

"I gave you my trust!" You wailed, lifting one hand to pound weakly against his chest, rage giving way to hysterical misery. "I showed you my weakness, I told you my fears, you made me want to r-rest my faith in you! And... and you just throw it back in my face, betrayed m-me, do you have any idea how hard it is for me to trust p-people, Jean!? I fucking _believed_ you when you told me we'd get through this together!"

Waves of guilt, sorrow and betrayal crashed against your mind. Your breaths were coming in erratic gulps and coughs, salty tears refusing to subside from their onslaught. The collar of Jean's shirt was saturated from your crying, yet he didn't seem at all perturbed by the dampness.

"Or Jean... do you _blame_ me for Marco's dea-"

Your voice was cut off as Jean fiercely threw himself into a sitting position, overpowering your weakened hold on him. His chest slammed into yours as his sturdy arms encircled your body, crushing you against him. Your face, tear stained and painted with hysteria was forced into the crook of his neck as your arms were trapped between two torsos.

"_____..."

Feebly you struggled against the wiry limbs that caged you, lingering determination still compelling you to fight against Jean, to show him your pain. 

For a few short moments you writhed in his grasp, fingers scrabbling desperately against his shirt as you sought to free yourself. But Jean was too strong. As he lifted one hand to rest on the back of your head, you slumped exhausted against him. Unable to struggle any longer, your resolve dissolved and you resisted no more. 

"_____, please. Don't you dare finish that sentence." His voice was low, trembling and cracking as he murmured into your ear. "Let it all out, but please don't say those words."

Jean's hand soothingly ran across the back of your head as you trembled in his steady embrace, sobbing against his neck. The damp material of his collar and the heated flesh of his throat muffled your wailing as you released your emotions, allowing it all to pour from you like water from a floodgate.

Gradually, the torrent subsided, leaving you whimpering quietly against Jean's neck as your tears came to a stop. Your eyes were puffy, palms clammy as they clung desperately to his shirt. You felt so worn out, and so uncertain of what Jean would say now.

_...But it can't get worse, right...?_

Burrowing your face further into the crook of Jean's neck, shakily inhaling his calming scent, you opened your parched lips to speak.

"...J-Jean, I-"

"_____, no more." His voice wavered and his arms tightened around your body, as if afraid you might disappear.

"I'm so fucking sorry, _____. I had no idea that I was putting you through so much Hell and uncertainty. I should have been more open with you, I should have let you know that I needed to think... God I'm such a fucking _idiot_. Marco would never let me get away with treating you this way... I promise I'm going to make it up to you, even if you can't trust my promises anymore." 

Jean's hand continued to stroke your head gently, fingers twining around loose strands of hair. It was your turn to listen in stunned silence, staring wide eyed at the skin of his neck. Through his shirt, you could feel Jean's heart pounding erratically against your chest, matching your own crazed rhythm.

"_____, I won't run away anymore alright? You wanna clear the air? How about-"

"Alright cadets, swap partners!" Erd's voice soared across the open field from the oak tree. Unwilling to face anyone just yet, you pressed your face against Jean's shoulder, your arms snaking out from their prison to clutch the back of his shirt.

"Tonight, alright _____? We're gonna have that talk we promised each other at graduation... I'll explain myself. I'll show you that I'm sorry."

Sniffling, you nodded against his shirt. "You better," you mumbled. Jean chuckled at this, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. You could see his smirk in your mind, and couldn't help but smile a little yourself.

"They don't seem to have noticed us just yet, _____." Jean murmured, relaxing his hold on you slightly. "We won't swap partners until we're forced, so you lemme know when you feel okay to go."

Nodding again, your eyes burned threateningly, this time with gratitude.

"Thankyou, shithead."

Grinning at your hollow insult, he responded with a voice full of affection, "No problem, dumbass."


	15. Honesty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh sorry it took me so long to write this one up, I've been really really busy at work. Updates will probably be alot less frequent than they used to be.

The mess hall was awash with chattering conversations and the wafting scents of dinner. Cadets called out to one another across wooden tables strewn with serving trays, weaving between benches and laughing in uproar. Across the expansive room, you could hear Reiner's booming guffaw rising above the din.

Alone, you perched awkwardly on the bench of Ymir and Christa's regular table. Your tray, laden with roasted vegetables, gravy and a bread roll, lay untouched as you fidgeted in your seat. You attempted to keep your eyes fixated on your glass of water, forcing yourself to study the condensation and faint ripples. Yet, your gaze continuously wandered, rebelliously trailing over to the small empty table by the window. 

It was so similar, so reminiscent of the seats you had shared every mealtime with Jean and Marco during the training days. A faint, sad smile touched your lips as your mind filled with warm, hazy memories of days gone by. Everything had been so simple back then, so carefree and clear. Those two boys, so dear to your heart, had been chasing their dreams vigorously. How distant it all seemed now, sitting in this huge castle far from the training camp.

How drastically things had changed.

_Ever since Trost..._

The clatter of trays striking a wooden surface jolted you from your reverie, head snapping around to see who had arrived. Ymir and Christa leisurely seated themselves across the table while Sasha wriggled in beside you.

"Hey daydreamer!" Sasha crowed, prodding your shoulder as she lifted a bread roll with her free hand. "Away with the fairies again huh?"

Ymir smirked, catching your eye before you could respond. "I wouldn't say she was away with _fairies_ , unless they happen to have two toned hair and piss-poor attitudes..."

Sasha snorted loudly, Christa smothered a giggle with her petite hand and your face heated up in horror. Flustered, you attempted to correct Ymir as she grinned smugly at you. 

"W-what the Hell, Ymir!? I wasn't, I was ju-"

"Yeah yeah, it's cool _____. We know you and horse-face are on the mend, so it's only natural you'd be like this." The grin still hadn't left Ymir's face, her eyes flashing deviously. "Tell me, did this plan turn out _awesome_ or what?"

Cheeks still flushed with embarrassment, you began absently pushing vegetables around your plate with a fork, leaning your chin into your other hand.

"Yeah, it worked alright," you murmured, bringing a morsel of potato to your lips. "But I guess I can't help but still be a little apprehensive. I kind of lost composure today."

"That's understandable though, _____!" Christa chirped up, her wide blue eyes capturing yours in a comforting gaze. "You've been through so much, nobody could expect you to hold it all together. You've done so well already!"

Smiling gratefully at the petite blonde, you bit down on the potato. "Thanks Christa." You mumbled as you chewed.

A comfortable silence settled over the table as the four of you dug in, only broken occasionally by casual comments and light conversation. Listening absently to Sasha's excited recounts of the day's training, your eyes gradually began to wander again. 

Trailing back over the empty table by the window, your gaze roamed further. You idly scanned over the hungry trainees, relaxed officers and laughing cadets before halting on one particular group. 

Reiner, howling with glee, was heartily clapping Connie on the back. The smaller boy braced himself against the table as his entire frame shook with each boisterous impact of Reiner's large hand. Bertholdt was laughing along with them, appearing more relaxed than usual. To the tall boy's left, a certain copper haired soldier chuckled, gesturing with his fork as he spoke. From such a distance, you couldn't make out what Jean was saying, but he seemed at ease. Happier than he had been recently.

As if he had somehow felt your gaze lingering upon him, Jean slowly turned his head to lock eyes with you. His features settled into a gentle smile, his golden eyes softening, almost... apologetic. Feeling your cheeks burning from being caught staring, you swiftly turned your attention back to your food. 

Gradually, groups of cadets rose from their seats as they finished eating. As the room began clearing and the noise dwindled, you could feel your anxiety returning.

_Why am I getting so nervous now of all times? The worst is over now, surely... We're just gonna talk. That's it. It's overdue by now anyway._

Yet despite your attempts to calm yourself, your erratic heartbeat refused to comply. Sighing in defeat, you shoveled the last of your cold vegetables into your mouth.

Approaching footsteps would have alerted you to a soldier heading your way, but you were too buried in thought to realize until a shadow fell across your food.

Before you could react at all, your vision became partially obscured by scruffy copper hair. Jean's shoulder, still clad in his uniform jacket, brushed against your chin as he leaned in close to your ear. Stunned into silence, you stared at his hand as it gripped the table with white knuckles.

"Oi, _____... um. W-which room is yours? Just so we can talk, nothing weird... I'm not trying anything strange, got it?"

You could hear the wavering uncertainty that choked Jean's voice, how he nervously swallowed against his dry throat, the sharp breathing through his nostrils.

Christa and Ymir's eyes were fixated on you in mute awe, jaws hanging open slightly. Beside you, Sasha let out a small choking sound.

_Fuck, can they **hear** everything he's saying!?_

Hastily, you muttered the location of your room in Jean's ear, face burning with embarrassment. 

"Right, well uh... I'll meet you there later." Jean straightened up, his cheeks flushed as he refused to meet your eyes.

"Wow, I never knew you were so _lewd_ , Kirschtein." Ymir drawled, smirking as she recovered from the initial surprise. "Don't tell me that's all the game you got?"

Your mouth fell open in horror as you stared at Ymir, mentally imploring her to stop talking.

Jean whipped around to glare at her, teeth clenched in anger, before abruptly stalking away from the table. You watched him leave the mess hall in silence, mind still scrabbling to make sense of what had transpired.

 

 

Sitting on your bed, leaning back heavily against the wall, you stared blankly at the darkening ceiling. After showering, you had foregone your uniform for a simple pair of cloth shorts and a singlet in favor of the warm evening. The rich smell of soap hung heavily in the air, emanating from your still damp hair as you ran your fingers through the clinging tresses. Knees pulled tightly against your chest, you waited.

The silence in your room felt more oppressive than ever before, the suspense of waiting for Jean overwhelming any sense of calm. You could hear the blood rushing through your ears, the sound of your own breathing, the rustle of sheets as you shifted your body weight. Only the distant murmuring and footsteps of soldiers in the corridors broke the bubble of isolation, reminding you that the world was still out there.

After what felt like an eternity of tracing the dancing shadows on the ceiling, there was a light knock at the door. You lurched forwards, leaning onto your knees as you watched the doorway.

"Yeah?" You called out softly, voice cracking slightly.

Creaking softly, the door inched open to reveal Jean's face, illuminated by the warm candle glow. He shuffled into the room silently before shutting the door noiselessly behind himself, eyes cast down to his feet. 

Jean looked so much more vulnerable than usual. Maybe it was the casual clothing, the absence of a soldier's uniform that made him appear so youthful, so fragile. Maybe it was the way his brows furrowed anxiously, or the childlike pout in his lips as he avoided your gaze.

"Yo, _____."

"Hey." You mumbled in response, patting the bed lightly with one hand.

Jean slowly made his way over to where you sat, perching himself awkwardly on the edge of the mattress. His hands clung to each other anxiously in his lap, shoulders hunched with tension. You watched him in silence for a moment before speaking, tightening your arms around your knees.

"So... did you come here to talk, or sit around like idiots?"

Jean's lip twitched in response as he shot you a quick glare.

"Alright, alright Jean," you muttered, your eyes fixated on your hand as you fiddled with a loose thread on your shorts. "You said you wanted to clear things up, right...? I'm listening."

From the corner of your eye, you saw Jean's mouth open and close like a goldfish. He appeared to be struggling to find the words to say. 

Finally after a few long moments, he spoke.

"Look, _____... Is it too late for us to still have that talk? The one we were gonna have at graduation?"

Turning your head, you caught his gaze. Uncertainty reigned in Jean's amber eyes, brows furrowed yet lacking his usual attitude.

_What good would it do if I said 'no' anyway...?_

You let out a small sigh, rubbing the back of your head with one hand. "Sure Jean, if thats where you want to start. What do you want to know?"

The copper-haired soldier visibly relaxed. A faint flicker of a smile touched his tired features as he swung his legs up onto the bed. Crossing his legs and resting his elbows upon his knees, he faced you attentively, his posture no longer vulnerable.

"Well, I figured if you were still willing to tell me, I wanted to know how you and Marco met. Why you were always such a closed book."

Your eyes widened slightly.

_Straight into the big stuff, huh Jean?_

Groaning as you adjusted your stiff legs, you eased yourself into a more comfortable position, using your pillow to prop your back against the wall.

"May as well get comfortable, Jean." You murmured, casting him a sideways glance. "It's a rather long and shitty story."

He simply nodded to assure you he was listening. Settling back against your pillow, you cast your mind back to recount your memories.

"So, I guess it all started 5 years ago, with the fall of Wall Maria. Everything was... much simpler back then. I hadn't really considered joining the military, or fighting titans. All I wanted to do was paint." You smiled sadly to yourself as the memories surfaced.

"I lived with my parents in a small cottage, close to the inner gate of Ziganshina. Both of the-"

"Wait, ZIGANSHINA?!" Jean interrupted, eyes wide in shock as he lurched closer to you.

"Jeeeeeannnnn!" You groaned, shoving him back. "Yes, Ziganshina. Will you listen now, please?"

Clearly disgruntled from your response, Jean nevertheless settled back, resting his chin on one hand.

"Now what was I saying...?" You mumbled, clearing your throat.

"We lived in this little cottage, really close to the safety of the inner gate. We had a garden full of blood red roses... They were my mother's. She loved flowers, and would always tell me that it was her dream to open a flower shop when she finished with the military. After all, she and my father were part of the Garrison. It was their job to guard the walls, so she had to put her dream aside."

Jean's features grew sympathetic at the mention of your mother, his eyes softening as he listened.

"I was so proud of my parents," your voice wavered as you continued. "They both worked so hard to defend our city, and still managed to raise me. My father built me an easel to paint on and set it up by the window. I would paint my mother's rose garden and excitedly show her my work when she returned home." 

A knot was forming in your stomach at the memories of your parents, seemingly so far away now. Your eyes began to burn. You retaliated by blinking hard to clear them, determined not to crack. Not yet.

"They both left that morning, the same as any other. They kissed me goodbye, reminded me that our neighbor would come check on me and told me to not to touch the food on the table. It was my father's birthday, we were supposed to have a special meal for him that night... I told them I would be fine, I watched my parents stride confidently out the front door, and spent the morning painting as usual."

A small, bitter smile crept upon your face.

_I was so naive. We all were._

"Our house was so far from the outer gates that I didn't realize what was happening straight away. I heard a distant rumbling, almost like thunder, but from my window all I could see was the roses. The sun was still shining, it didn't seem right that a storm would be rolling in. I tried to ignore the noise at first. But then..."

You swallowed hard against the lump constricting your throat, the horror still fresh in your mind after all these years.

"Then... the screaming started. People were sprinting past the house, crying out to each other and running from something. I was so scared, sitting alone in my house while I listened to the panic rise outside. I decided to look out the front door, because what if there was a fire or something? I would need to leave. So I looked... Part of me wishes I hadn't."

Jean was completely silent, seemingly enraptured by your story. His shoulders were hunched forward as he leaned close, listening intently. His amber eyes, wide and focused with attention were fixated upon your face.

Steadying your shaking hands, you continued.

"People were fleeing through the streets. From all the noise and mayhem, I couldn't understand their words as they screamed out to each other. I stood frozen in my doorway, watching them run. The outer walls were mostly obscured by smoke and steam, but I could see them. Titans. They were entering the city somehow, grinning and stomping between the buildings to reach us. They were getting closer, but all I could do was stare in silence."

Unbidden tears still threatening to leak from your eyes, you raised one unsteady hand to rub at them defiantly.

"I probably would have stayed there, paralyzed by shock, if it wasn't for my neighbor. His name was Brady, a carpenter and close friends with my father. He ran over to me, yelling something that I don't recall. Brady grabbed me and rushed through the streets with me over his shoulder, heading for the gates. There were so many people crowded at the passageway, pushing and trampling each other to get through. I remember the panic in their eyes, the tears and the sweat. Brady had to hold me so tightly, otherwise I could fall and be killed."

Your eyes burned and you sniffed as your nose began to run. Reliving the horror was the last thing you wanted to do.

_I can't just stop now, I gotta get it all out..._

"I looked everywhere for my parents as we approached the gate. I knew that was their regular post. The soldiers were aligning and loading the cannons, ready to fire at any titans that would come too close. I thought I saw a glimpse of my mother... But I can't be sure. I cried out for them. I wriggled around on Brady's shoulder, screaming for my parents, searching for their faces."

"But I didn't see them. Ever again."

Jean almost winced at those words, his eyebrows furrowing and liquid gold eyes becoming more somber. You glanced at him, locking eye contact for the briefest moment before looking back at your hands.

"On the other side of the gate within the sanctuary of Wall Maria, there was a small harbor on the river. Barges were waiting to take us all to safety along the water channels. A couple of the boats were already full and setting off towards distant Wall Rose. Somehow, Brady managed to get me close to the next ship. He begged the soldiers to take me on board, as I was only a child. A female soldier with kind eyes leaned down to take me from Brady, and I realized that he wasn't coming with me. The barge was already close to maximum capacity, and there were still more rushing aboard. I panicked. I pleaded with the soldier to let Brady on board, but it was too late. I had already lost sight of him in the crowd, and the boat set off."

"Shit..." Jean mumbled, casting his eyes to the side. "I had no idea you'd had it so rough, _____. You met Marco sometime after that...?"

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you gave him a sad smile. "I know you didn't. Aside from Marco, you're the first person to hear about all of this. It's not something I want to broadcast, I'm not the type to seek sympathy. And as for meeting Marco... Yeah, sometime after all of that. I'm getting there."

The copper-haired soldier nodded solemnly for you to continue. 

"Most of the boats headed toward the larger districts and cities, like Karanese or Trost. I guess to ease the load of refugees, a few took the smaller waterways and left us in towns. The barge I was on ended up at Jinae. It was nightmarish, being transported like cattle before being herded off into makeshift orphanages and rescue shelters. I was taken to an old warehouse along with many other orphans. It was supposed to be our home from then onward."

Letting out a short, bitter laugh, you shot a humorless smirk at Jean. 

"It may sound like I'm being ungrateful for having a roof over my head and food to eat, but I can guarantee it was bare minimum on all fronts. Food was scarce, often stale or moldy. All of us children were cramped together in this leaking old warehouse. There weren't enough blankets to go around, so most nights we huddled together in piles away from the dripping ceiling. The people who worked at the shelter - some sort of volunteers, I suppose - didn't seem bothered about our safety. Those of us kept there had our names and home towns recorded, but the workers were never seen checking the lists."

Your fists clenched together again, knuckles straining against skin.

 

"Kids went missing, Jean. All the time. They would go outside during the day, maybe to play or explore, maybe even go begging... But some of them never came back."

Jean's eyes were wide, his jaw slackened slightly in shock.

"Oi, where did they go?"

"How should I know?" You snorted bitterly, tightening your arms around your legs. "I wasn't exactly focused on everyone else at that time. We were all so busy trying to survive ourselves. I would go out from the orphanage almost every day, but always alone. I spent my days wandering along the nearby river and my nights crying for my parents."

A tiny smile crept upon your face as a warmer scene of events surfaced in your mind.

"After two weeks of living there, I had found a little place I liked to go. Kind of like an escape. There was that small river that trailed around the back of Jinae's district. There were only a few scattered houses out there. I enjoyed walking along the riverbank, tossing stones or looking out into the fields. One day, I walked far enough to find an old apple tree. It was so huge to me back then, a looming presence that demanded respect. I could sit under it for hours and feel a little bit of peace."

"Kind of like that willow tree?" Jean mumbled in question.

You nodded in response. "Yeah, the willow kind of reminded me of that place for a couple of reasons."

"One of the days I went out to that tree, I hadn't been able to eat. The food was very scarce, so some of us missed out occasionally. Sitting in the shade, I looked up and saw an apple. It wasn't quite ripe, and it was hanging over the water, but _God_ I was hungry. I climbed up the trunk, making my way across the branch towards the apple. Part of me knew that what I was doing was dangerous, as I didn't know how to swim. But I don't think I cared anymore. I was willing to risk myself all for that little fruit."

"I'm guessing you fell?" Jean snorted, his trademark smirk appearing.

"Oh you find that funny do ya, smart-ass?" You scoffed at him, reaching out to swat at him. "Real funny huh, me nearly drowning. Asshole!"

Jean laughed at your half-assed attack, his humor shaking the grim atmosphere that had been building up. Grabbing your wrist, he pushed your hand back at you, skin warm and rough against your own.

Just like that, he was able to ease the tension in the room.

Pouting playfully in his direction, you withdrew your hand and relaxed against your pillow again.

"Anyway, dick-head, like I was _trying_ to say before you interrupted... Yes, I fell in the water. The branch was pretty weak I guess, and it snapped. It was kind of frightening, you know... I lost all of my breath screaming out before I hit the water. When I went under, all I could feel was the cold. I tried to struggle a bit, but I knew I couldn't swim. I ended up just kind of drifting there, down near the bottom. I remember that I started to relax, almost feeling sleepy. It felt more peaceful as the pain in my chest became duller, and I just thought of my parents. I wondered why they didn't come back for me. I wondered if I would see them soon."

"Holy shit," Jean sputtered, the surprise apparent in his voice as his smirk disappeared. "So really did you almost drown? How did you get out of the water then!?"

"Damn you love interrupting me today," You grumbled at him, glaring pointedly in his direction. He gave you a mocking sneer in response.

"Anyway, as soon as I pretty much gave myself over to the silence and blindness, something grabbed me. I got hauled out of the water, coughing and crying, by a boy my age. I thought I was dreaming, I figured I had died down there. I probably would have believed it, if it wasn't for the pain of catching my breath and the cold breeze upon my drenched body. He was talking to me, asking if I was alright, but I hardly heard his voice. Dark hair, freckles, a deep blue hoodie... It was him. He had jumped in the water and saved me, Jean."

Jean was quiet, looking down in thought. You watched him, studying the look on his face. He appeared as if there was something that he wanted to say, yet he simply shook his head and motioned for you to keep going. You raised an eyebrow questioningly, but continued anyway.

"I remember him walking me slowly back to his house, his arms holding me tightly. He led me to this pretty stone bungalow with a cobblestone path leading through the garden. God, it reminded me so much of home... A woman came bursting out the front door, calling out to the boy. She ran over and ushered us both inside. To me at that time, she was the most welcome sight I could think of. Long black hair, freckles, huge dark eyes... She practically radiated a motherly warmth. I was placed in front of the fire, with a blanket around me, and all I could do was cry. They gave me hot milk to drink, and still all I did was cry."

Your eyes were welling up again. Your throat, aching and constricting, was making it harder to speak without choking. Jean was watching you, eyes fixated on your face. Almost as if he was anticipating the inevitable tears that were waiting to spill over.

"Oi, _____..." Jean's voice was low, almost soothing. "You know, you don't have to force yourself to keep going if you're just gonna get upset like this."

Shaking your head roughly, you wiped at the tears as they began to spill. "No," you grumbled, rubbing your face with your palms. "You've been bugging me for so long about this... We're meant to b-be honest with each other now..." 

Coughing weakly, you straightened yourself up.  Your eyes continued to burn with welling tears, so you gave up wiping at them, choosing instead to hug your knees to your chest.

"They introduced themselves to me. Marco and Francesca Bodt. Marco sat with me by the fire while his mother fussed about, making sure we were dry and all. I really couldn't believe their kindness, Marco must have gotten his sweet nature from her. They both asked about where I had come from, why I was out there climbing that tree... So I told them everything."

Sniffling, you smiled up at Jean. "They took me in, you know."

Jean said nothing, choosing instead to simply nod.

"It was hard to believe. In fact, it still is. Why this woman would decide to take a strange orphan into her home just like that, I will never understand. As time went by, living with Francesca and Marco, she became like a mother to me..."

Jean was fidgeting now. He was looking anywhere but you, and chewing at his bottom lip.

"Jean...?"

"What?" He grumbled in response.

"Is there something you want to say? You're acting weird again."

"You and him... Marco," Jean muttered, scratching at the back of his head. "You two... So that's how... Did the two of you...? Uh."

You groaned loudly.

_What is his problem today?_

"Look, Jean, just speak up already please?" You wiped at your face absently, still stinging with fresh tears.

"Argh, look, _____... What I'm trying to ask, uh," Jean's voice was becoming agitated as he struggled to find the words he wanted. "You two, you were always so close... So now I know you lived together and all. Is that how you guys, y'know..." His voice dropped lower, back down to a mumble. "Got so close, got together and shit."

No response came from your lips. Frowning in confusion at your silence, Jean peeked up to see you staring dumbfounded at him, mouth slightly agape.

" _Got t-together_!? What the _Hell_ do you mean!?"

"You know what I mean, _____, don't make this more awkward than it is already!" Jean retorted snappily.

"Me? _Me_ make things awkward? What the Hell kind of question was that?"

"Well that's how it was, right?" Jean growled, his cheeks tinged with pink. "You and Marco. Everyone could see it, _____.  The way he looked at you, how you acted around him..."

You could feel the heat boiling up into your cheeks as you stared at Jean in wide eyed shock.

"Jean, what are you trying to imply? Marco... became like a brother to me, he and his mother _became my family_. We had promises to each other, he's what kept me afloat... He saved my life. My love for Marco..." 

You swallowed hard, choosing your words carefully as your throat tightened. Your heart was racing, hammering desperately against your ribs. Jean was visibly deflated, his shoulders sagging as he anticipated your words.

_Why... Why does Jean make it all so hard to say? It feels like my chest could burst..._

"Marco... I loved Marco like I would love home, y'know? To me, he was comfort and safety. He was always there to catch me, to hug me when I was sad or tickle me when I was grumpy... We shared hopes, dreams. Joining the military was something we wanted to do as a team, to support and motivate each other... We made a promise, a silly one I'll admit. We told each other that if something were to happen to one of us, we should-" You gulped again. Color burned in your cheeks and your stomach roiled with butterflies.

"W-we decided that if one of us wasn't gonna make it, we would be each other's first... kiss. I know it sounds stupid, Jean..." Tears spilled freely from your eyes, cascading down your cheeks to drum a pattern into the bed sheets. "We were young and stupid and innocent, and then h-he got taken away from us and I," Your breathing became labored as your body was wracked with sobs, shaking you to your very bones. "I... I broke my promise! I couldn't do it, Jean!"

You wailed as you began to cry in full, burying your face in your hands as you curled your knees tighter against your chest. All of the guilt, the fear, the loss came pouring out of you, triggered by the painful memories.

"I was t-too scared to say goodbye to him like that!" Your voice was peppered with hiccups, eyes clenched shut tightly as if to block out the pain. "We _promised_! He t-told me I would n-never be alone again! _I should have b-been there, Jean!_ Maybe if I had been, he woul-"

You were cut off as Jean's arms enveloped you, pulling your body firmly against his chest. His hand, clutching the back of your head, pressed your face into his neck as he held you tightly. His legs shakily wrapped themselves around you, as if he were trying to shield you from the pain with his own body. Tears continued to stream from your eyes, soaking into Jean's shirt as you rested your forehead against his shoulder in exhaustion. Feebly, your hands snaked around his back to cling desperately to his shirt.

"C'mon _____," Jean grumbled in your ear, his voice vibrating through his chest. "You can't keep doing this to yourself. Blaming yourself for this shit won't get you anywhere, all it's gonna do is hurt you."

Still crying quietly against Jean's shoulder, all you could muster in response was a nod as you tightened your grip on his shirt. His hand began gently stroking the back of your head, smoothing your disheveled locks.

"And... you're not alone, dumbass." Jean's voice was quieter now, almost a murmur. Your stomach tightened at those words, tingling with a flurry of butterflies. "I'm no Marco, I can't fill that void... But I'm still here, aren't I."

It was a statement, not a question. Sniffling, you nodded vigorously against his shoulder. "T-thankyou, Jean... But I don't w-want you to try replace Marco, y'know?" You mumbled, face burning with embarrassment. "He was irreplaceable... You are too."

Jean didn't respond. You heard a quiet yet sharp intake of breath. His hand ceased stroking your head, his fingers twining into your hair instead. 

_Shit, did I say something wrong again...?_

Jean was gently pulling away from you, shifting backwards so he could see you. His hands came around to hold your face, thumbs tentatively brushing away the tears staining your cheeks. Your breath was caught in your throat, heart hammering wildly as Jean slowly leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours. His hot, shuddering breath ghosted across your chin, tickling as it dried the tears left there.

"_____, I can't keep watching you beat yourself up like this. I don't wanna see you cry anymore," his voice was hoarse, trembling as he squeezed his golden eyes shut. "It hurts me too."

"I'm sorry." Was all you could muster. Speaking was even more difficult than breathing at that point.

Slowly, Jean's eyelids lifted, and he stared down into your eyes, still red and puffy from crying so hard. His calloused hands that were softly cupping your face began carefully winding themselves into your hair, weaving a complex pattern in the strands. Jean's eyes were hooded, glazed with something unfamiliar as he gazed transfixed into your own, his parted lips trembling slightly. You were almost trance-like, a fly caught in a web, frozen as the truth you had denied for so long began to dawn upon you.

"Idiot," he whispered. "Don't go apologizing... Just be yourself again."

Jean's forehead left yours as he turned his head slightly, leaning in close. His fingers tightened around your hair and his nose softly brushed your cheek, his parted lips settling tentatively against yours as his eyes closed. A wildfire burst into life inside your chest at the contact, and your clutching hands abandoned his shirt to snake up his shoulders. Eyes rolling shut in bliss, you settled yourself into the kiss, pressing against his lips gently with your own.

Gently parting from you, Jean slipped one hand away from your hair to hook a finger beneath your chin.

"I miss you, _____... The real you. I miss the banter, the heckling, your attitude and strength..." Jean placed a light kiss at the corner of your mouth. His cheeks were flushed red to match yours, his hands shaking lightly from nerves.

"I miss the girl who wouldn't take any shit from anyone. The unshakable girl who hooked the biggest guy in our corps in the face. I miss the you that I... That I uh..." He gulped, lip quivering and brows furrowing.

"M-me too, Jean." You whispered in response, mustering up a courageous smile. "I feel that way too."

Jean's shoulders relaxed in relief, and he pulled you tightly against his chest again. Burying his face in your soft hair, he inhaled the scent of shampoo and soap.

"Will you forgive me for being such an ass? I had no idea what I was doing to you." His voice rumbled close to your ear, breath hot against your scalp. "I had no right to be so shitty... I was frustrated and couldn't own up to my emotions. I'm sorry, _____."

A nod was the only response you needed to give, as he sighed into your hair. 

You and Jean stayed like that for a short while, the minutes slowly creeping by as you held each other in comfortable silence. But reality came knocking, and you both had to face the rules set out in this militant lifestyle.

"It'll be curfew real soon, Jean." You mumbled, snuggling into the crook of his neck. "You should go back to your room before then."

Jean let out a low groan, pulling you down onto the sheets. 

"Jeeeeeannnn," you whined, pushing against his chest. "You'll get us both in shit if you're caught in here."

Lazily opening one eye, Jean shot you a wicked smirk, setting your stomach aflame with butterflies again.

"Yeah, yeah. Gimme a couple more minutes like this."

You struggled slightly against the cage of his arms, but his grip was too tight for your tired body to combat. Grumbling to yourself, you settled back down with a sigh.

_I guess five more minutes won't hurt._


End file.
